Night Butterfly
by AliceJoDowntheRabbitHole
Summary: A young hooker and the owner of a small shop come together under the most unusual circumstances and find that sometimes family is more that just blood. Learning to trust each other and finding support and friendship, these two will try to face every obstacle and heartache that comes their way. This story is on Hiatus.
1. Chapter 1: July, 22 - Monday

A/N: Hi all! Here's a new series (it's gonna be a long one!) that we're super excited about. We've spent a lot of time planning this one out, and hopefully you will all like it as much as we do. We've got a lot of different things in the works for you all, so keep your eyes peeled.

Feedback is always welcome, especially on longer stories. It helps us out tremendously when we know what you're questions and thoughts are on the things we write. We can't always fill every request into the main plot if it conflicts with something already in the works, but we will try and work in as much of your ideas, concerns, questions etc. as we can.

Finally, there's a lot of Russian in here because Red is dramatic! Some of it is from Google translate, while others are phrases we found online that are Russian insults etc. To make this a little easier to read you'll find the Russian in italics, followed by the English translation in brackets directly after. Hope this helps!

XOXOXO

Red walked out of the kitchen with a tray of pastila that she had just taken out of the oven. She inhaled the sweet scent deeply and smiled in pride of her work. She greeted a young couple and their daughter who were still trying to decide on what they wanted. Humming to herself, she slid the back of the case open and began adding her latest delectable treat.

Once she'd put them in the case on display, she took a moment to breathe. Looking around the shop, she smiled with pride. Arms crossed over her chest, she couldn't help but compare the bustling crowd of the present to the small skeleton of a shop they had opened over a decade ago. After their first 7 years, the building next door had been vacated. They took out a loan and bought the space. A few months later and it was nearly doubled in size.

Instead of the three crowded in tables, they now had ten. Groceries had originally been the primary source of their income, but soon Red's cooking was the real draw. Now the majority of their business was focused on her baked goods, soups, and lunch dishes. They had come so far but were still just getting by. Red knew that one day their shop would be a true success and support their family in much more comfortable ways.

Yuri had just been born when they had first opened, and no longer were they content with just getting by. Red wanted a better life for her children than their cold childhood back in Russia. She didn't regret her own past-it had made her strong and who she was today, but it held deep wounds of pain and heartache as well. She didn't want that life for her child. She would teach him strength, but America would provide him with opportunities and freedom that their homeland didn't.

Cocking her head in curiosity she watched as a young woman, with overly straightened strawberry blonde hair, enter the shop. Why these girls felt the need to style their hair to such extravagance was beyond her. Unconsciously she reached a hand up to her own drab locks and wondered what someone who knew what they were doing would do with her hair.

While it was none of her business, more than once she had wanted to go over and tell those men exactly what she thought of their intentions. The wandering hands and lingering eyes left little doubt what they were thinking. The young woman was lovely, and she could see their appeal, but they disgusted her. The girl was an enigma. She didn't understand how someone could be comfortable in that lifestyle. She didn't consider herself a prude, but sex for her had always been about connecting with someone.

Red's eyes widened as she watched Timur, the newest member of Ganya's group, yank her down by her arm so that he could whisper in her ear. She saw the wince of pain, followed by the flash of disgust on the girl's face. It was only an instant before the mask was back in place and her laughter rang through the room. Red didn't like this, not at all. The girl glanced around the shop to see if anyone was watching, and Red quickly lifted the lid on one of the soup warmers and stirred it while discreetly watching. She watched as money switched hands and the young woman slipped it into her bra. Her entire posture changed, and Red could tell that despite the willing transaction the young woman wanted nothing to do with him.

Ganya grabbed her by the wrist, yanking her closer a little too roughly. With a hand on her waist he said something that made her tense, but nod. Her eyes turned downward as his hand moved to the inside of her thigh. It wasn't obvious to the rest of the patrons, but from where Red watched she saw more than she wanted to. The table ruptured into laughter, and the girl looked back at the man who had given her the money. It wasn't fear that Red saw in her eyes, but disgust and repulsion.

Timur rose to his feet and wrapped an arm around her shoulders and guided her towards the back wall. Putting the pieces together, Red quickly rushed over to the back exit that housed the bathroom. They only had one unisex bathroom. The shop was really too small to have two, and despite their growth, they couldn't afford an addition. They were more stable than they had been, but things were still tight. Too tight. She snatched up the out of order sign from the broom closet and shoved the mop cart in view.

"Galina!" Timur greeted with a tight but pleasant smile. "How are you?" It was evident that he was frustrated in the timing of this encounter, but he couldn't simply push their meeting to the side. Red and Dmitri might depend on Ganya's interest in their shop, but Ganya had enough respect for the couple that he would be upset if Timur were rude to them. He didn't tolerate nonsense.

"Fine," she answered. "Just fine. And you? How is your Zoya?" she asked, wondering if a mention of his wife might weigh on his conscience. It was meant as a slap to the face, but she had kept her tone crisp and even-a voice she had mastered. She had a volatile temper, and while she had trouble containing it, she was getting better at stopping it from creeping into her voice. When everything you said sounded sarcastic and judgmental, you could get away with speaking your mind freely.

"She's well, visiting her sister for the weekend. I'll tell her you said hello," he nodded. He moved to walk forward, but she didn't clear the path. He dipped his head, understanding that they weren't finished talking.

"Mmm," Red hummed in response. "It's good to spend time with family. I'm sure she's having a very pleasant time." His wife is out of town and yet he needs to use my bathroom to fuck around on her? That's not happening. Red's eyes drifted to the woman next to him, but she was careful not to look too long.

Noticing Red's glances, he stiffened and cleared his throat. His hand dropped from around her shoulders to her lower back. He looked over at the table of men behind him, before explaining. "How rude of me, this is my niece," he said, stumbling through the lie. "Natalya," he introduced awkwardly.

"Swapping family members?" Red teased trying to stall. "Trading out your wife for your niece?" she hopped, once more, that the double meaning of her words landed as one more wound to his conscience.

Swallowing hard, Timur forced out a laugh. "No. No. Natalya is my brother's daughter," he explained.

Red looked at him in feigned surprise and interest. "I didn't know you had a brother. Does he live here?"

"Back in Russia. Natalya is here looking for work. We're hoping she can get a visa." The lies spilled from his tongue with confident ease. The more he talked, the more comfortable he seemed to get.

"Well it's nice to meet you, Natalya," Red said, positive that was not the girl's actual name. "I'm Galina, but most people call me Red." She knew Russian when she saw it, and this girl was definitely not. She started to reach out to shake her hand but hesitated. The girl just nodded her head in acknowledgment. "If you need anything. Let me know," she added. "Ganya has been a patron of ours since we opened. Any friends of his..." she trailed off, unable to talk about him much longer without getting sick. "Maybe we could work something out here if you're interested. The summer's get busy and we could definitely use a third pair of hands. How long is your visa?"

Red knew that there was no visa and that it was doubtful that she was legitimately looking for work, but she couldn't resist offering. What if the girl was looking for something else? Would Ganya even consider letting her go? Red was under no delusion that she had much freedom. Ganya liked to be in control.

Ganya had always been polite to Red, taking the time to ask about her day and make light conversation with her. He would bring the boys small treats from time-to-time as well. All the same, she knew how powerful he was, and what he was capable of. The man was dangerous, and she tread carefully when it came to him-not a talent she had much practice in.

"I was just showing her where the bathroom was," Timur said, pointing behind Red. His voice sounded strained and far too eager. Turning his head, he looked at the girl, and a faint smirk twitched upon his lips.

Red nodded. "Oh no," she said, managing to sound apologetic. "Unfortunately, it's out of order. You would think grown adults would know how much toilet paper they actually need, stupid fuckers, it's all clogged up. The water box has been running as well, so I've called the plumber, but he can't get out until later this afternoon. Ridiculous yes? I've been telling Dmitri for some time now that we needed to have it looked at, but all I get in response is 'I'll get to it.'"

"Oh, I see," Timur answered. "Well, that's alright. We were about to head out anyways. It was good to see you, Galina." They turned away from Red and headed out. She watched as his hands gripped the young woman's biceps tightly. Her delicate skin would probably bruise under his grip-little blue and gray fingertips upon her skin. Red couldn't help but wonder if she'd made a mistake. If something were to happen... at least in the shop, she would have seen it. She chewed on the inside corner of her mouth as she watched them stop by Ganya's table and then leave.

"Galina," Dmitri yelled from behind the counter. She looked up at him and saw him raise his hands towards the line that was building. She nodded and made her way back towards the kitchen. After quickly washing her hands, Red began helping prepare and pass out orders. The rest of the afternoon went by in a rush, lunch time always did.

They had been lucky in location. The area had been almost abandoned when they had first opened up. There were a few stores nearby, but not much else. Slowly over their first year, the area blossomed back to life. She and Dmitri knew it was a risk, but it was the only place they could afford. With the flat above the shop, it was the only way they could manage to run a business and have someplace of their own to live.

Dmitri finished ringing up groceries for the last few customers currently in the shop. They had bounced around the idea of expanding their inventory beyond dry goods, but financially it wasn't the right time. Currently, they were able to turn a profit, but new ventures cost money to start up and success to maintain. Today had been a profitable afternoon for sure and that brought them one step closer.

As the crowd began to ease, Red moved to the back. The evening would be slow, but they always had a small crowd looking for a quick dinner or dessert to take home. There was always work to be done. It was comforting to her. Hard work gave you value and purpose. She had worked hard all her life and knew the value it brought to her life.

Most of her childhood had been spent farming. They'd grown vegetables and some fruit for themselves, but the biggest crop was sunflowers. They sold well, and that was all that mattered. They were a poor family, and in those days, everything helped. They'd kept livestock as well-mostly sheep and goats, but they had also raised chicken. The eggs brought in a big profit, but it was the birds themselves that brought in a high profit. One would think that they ate well, but most of their crops were to sell and trade.

Once a year Red's father would kill a chicken for them, it was tradition. Each year he would tell them about his family's secret, going back hundreds of years. Chickens were powerful creatures, and when you ate them, you absorbed that power. Now once a year, Red made the same meal for her boys and told them the story. Dmitri thought it was stupid, but Red knew that even if it was nonsense, belief was a powerful thing and with that belief came the magic.

"Well, we have some time to breath," Dmitri said, entering the kitchen and pulling her out of her daze. "What's wrong with the bathrooms? Do I need to call a plumber?" he asked, coming up beside her. He looked around the kitchen as he spoke and frowned.

He had great plans for improvements, but Red liked her kitchen the way it was. He had tried to convince her it would be more efficient his way, but she insisted that it was hers, and she would do with it what she liked. The only battle he had won was the stainless-steel dishwasher. Truthfully, he hadn't even won the battle, he'd surprised her with it for her birthday.

Shaking her head, Red cursed under her breath. She'd forgotten that she had left the sign up. "The bathrooms are fine," she said gruffly. You can put the sign away. The mop is out too if you want to do something useful; the bathroom needs a good scrubbing. Moving around the room, she began to make a new batch of dough.

Maybe he could get Yuri to clean the bathroom for him. A little cash worked miracles on his oldest son. "Why did you put the sign up then?" Dmitri asked, confused by his wife's strange ways. Red often did things he didn't understand, but he had learned that answers were not something she gave freely.

Red turned to face him-hands on her hips. "Because. I won't have those men fucking their whores in my bathroom." Turning back to her dough, she roughly worked her hands through it. She didn't even know what she was making but it kept her from strangling her husband. Busy hands are happy hands, she thought. It was a stupid sentiment, but she knew from experience that it worked with her boys. Busy hands aren't murderous hands, she corrected herself-changing the sentiment to something more appropriate.

Eyes opening wide, Dmitri stumbled through words, trying to feign shock. "What are you talking about?" He knew what Ganya and his men were doing with the woman. He was the only one who hadn't. The group mocked him for his faithfulness to Red-all except Ganya. He said that the only person who might be as equally feared as himself was Galina. Fiery and spirited he'd called her with an amused chuckle. He pressed his hands to the counter and leaned forward, trying to catch her gaze.

"Get your dirty hands off my counter," Red growled. "Don't act like you didn't know. Why the fuck didn't you tell me?" She shook her head in disgust. "I don't want that in my shop," she warned. "Eti otvratitel'nyye lyudi dumayut, chto oni mogut delat' vse, chto khotyat, gde by oni ni zakhoteli. Ublyúdok. [These disgusting men think that they can do whatever they want, wherever they want. Motherfuckers.]."

"Galina," Dmitri pleaded. "What do you want me to do, huh? Tell Ganya he can't come back? You know what that man would do to us. Not to mention, he could call in the..." Dmitri's mouth froze open, and she could see him struggle to find words.

Red took angry steps towards him. "Call in what?" she said, deadly venom in her voice. Dmitri didn't answer, which told her everything. "Call in your loan?" she asked, already knowing the answer. "You fucking stupid little man. Gde ty rodilsya cherez zadnitsu tvoyey materi? [Where you born through your mother's ass?] Why would you take money from him? Is there something wrong with your brain?"

"I've almost paid him back," Dmitri promised. "I swear. I wouldn't have even borrowed if there was another option. Galyna, I did it for us. "

"Another option," she mocked. "Ganya shouldn't have been an option in the first place. Vy deystvitel'no znayete, kak vse isportit'. Zaymite den'gi u togo cheloveka, kogda u vas yest' dva malen'kikh mal'chika doma [You really know how to fuck things up. Borrowing money from that man when you have two small boys at home]." Her words echoed loudly through the kitchen and she saw her husband's eyes dart to the dishwasher he had recently purchased.

Throwing her hands up in the air, Red began to laugh. "That's what this is about? You took money to buy that toy of yours? Yobanyi karas' [Fucking moron]. That piece of shit was the big necessity?" She shook her head and went back to kneading the bread, needing something to focus her anger on.

"We've done well. I promise, this will be over soon," Dmitri implored, moving closer to her. "If you would only use it you would see how great it is."

Red just laughed darkly. "Over soon. What part of this do you not understand? With men like that it is never over. You would have been better off selling your soul to the devil. Why didn't I listen to my mother? Ona predupredila menya, chto ty vsegda budesh' rebenkom, chto ty tol'ko prinesosh' razocharovaniye i serdtse bolit [She warned me that you would always be a child that you would only bring disappointment and heartache]" Red said with a sigh. While supportive of her choice, Red's mother had never liked him. A pang of guilt and pain hit her chest as the memory of her brother came to mind.

"You're no prize either," Dmitri snapped. He knew he would regret that, but he'd already committed. "You work all day-bossing everyone about like you're some Tsarina. You belittle me in front of those men. Then at night, it's more work with the boys. You never take any time for me-for us. Ty skuchnaya zhenshchina, kotoraya delayet menya odinokim [You are a boring woman who makes me lonely]. All work with you."

Dmitri stood in silence hoping that she would calm down. He knew he'd made a mistake in his words, but it was too late to take them back. "You want me to think about the boys? I always do, but maybe you should think about our marriage."

Red barked out a bitter laugh. She turned to face him and scorn radiated from her being. "You stay out at night drinking with those men. You don't help me with the boys-and don't even get me started on Yuri. You let that boy run wild and avoid his responsibilities. The mouth on him now. I will not let him grow up to be like those men."

"It's not like that," Dmitri tried to defend. "I am just showing Ganya that he can trust us-that we're on his side. They could do amazing things for us." The truth was that he wanted to impress them for selfish reasons. He had always been the guy they kept around to make fun of. He was their errand boy, the butt of their jokes, and the man they knew they could count on to serve them."

Ignoring his defenses, Red continued her speech. "You come home half drunk at two in the morning and expect sex when I have to be back up at four? Don't you think I miss sex? I'll tell you, I've been missing it since we got together. If you think you're wowing me with your skills, you are sadly mistaken. It's time for you to grow up Dmitri; if not for yourself or me then for our boys. You are a father goddamit-act like it!"

"What do you know?" Dmitri said, waving off her words.

Red looked up at him. "I need you to go away now before you say anything else that you'll regret. We have two boys to think about and I'm trying very hard to make sure they have two parents, but trust me, my restraint will not last much longer." She could kill him. It didn't even matter that he called her frigid-if he had anything worth the effort she could understand, but her husband lacked any real excitement in the bedroom. It was astounding that they had children at all.

XOXOXO

Just a quick reminder:

Feedback is always welcome, especially on longer stories. It helps us out tremendously when we know what you're questions and thoughts are on the things we write. We can't always fill every request into the main plot if it conflicts with something already in the works, but we will try and work in as much of your ideas, concerns, questions etc. as we can.

As always, thanks for reading!


	2. Chapter 2: July, 22 - Monday

A/N: Hey friends! Here's the next part. The plan was to spread these updates out a little bit at a time, but then we realized how long this was going to be and wow. Anyone wanna spend the next five years or so with us? (I'm kidding! _She's not kidding…_ Shut up Jo! I'm kidding—maybe _. She's not, but thankfully this time she isn't blaming me)_. Anyway, that being discovered we're going to try and update as quickly as we get things written. No promises on how fast that will be.

And, to the newest member of our… audience. While we appreciate the interest you have in our friendship, those weren't exactly the questions we had in mind ; ) Good luck with your curiosity though; we're sure it will get you far in life.

Alright enough chatter—hope you all enjoy!

XOXOXO

Locking the door, Red turned towards the shop and leaned against it. She was still heated from her fight with Dmitri, and wanted to do something with that energy before going upstairs and seeing the boys. She hated getting cranky with them, especially when it wasn't their fault. She looked down at the floor and scuffed her shoe against it. It had been a while since she'd given it a good scrubbing.

Sighing heavily, Red pushed herself off the door and moved to the nearest table. Picking up the chair she turned it upside down and placed it on the table. She walked through the store lost in a haze of thought. As distracted as she was, she didn't hear Dmitri come in until he was near.

"Galina," Dmitri said, walking over to his wife. "Let me do that," he offered, pulling the chair out of her hands. "I'll finish cleaning up." He knew that he had backed himself into a horrible corner that afternoon and was desperate to fix things as soon as possible.

Raising an eyebrow at him, Red stared him down. When he looked down at his feet, an amused look spread on her face. She was still angry at him, but it was slowly fading into annoyance. It wasn't worth the energy. She had married him for a reason, and while he might not have turned out to be the man she hoped for, she still had feelings for him. They could get past this. It was foolish and dangerous, but it was the only option. "You clean up the shop one night and I'm supposed to accept that as an apology?"

Shaking his head, Dmitri reached for her hand. "Not an apology," he urged. "The beginning of one. The start of change. I will make this right—for you and the boys." He dropped his head in shame. "You were right, it was stupid, and I wasn't thinking. I should have talked to you first. If you would only try it. You would see—it's a good investment."

"A good investment? It's a dishwasher not a money tree. It has broken down twice and cost us more in repairs than probably what it's worth," she snapped. "What were you thinking? We have better things to be spending money on." She shook her head. Frivolity was not something they could afford, especially not now. He may not have the foresight to plan ahead, but she did. Now was not the time.

Dmitri stepped closer to her and put a hand on her waist. "Galina," he said tenderly, rubbing his thumb against her. "I was thinking that if you used it then we would have a little more time together in the evenings," he said suggestively. " _Tvoi glaza, kak luna. YA mechtayu o tvoyem tele_ [Your eyes are like the moon. I dream of your body.]," he said, pulling her to him. "Maybe tonight after you put the boys down... hmm? Maybe we could..."

"Dmitri, shut up," Red said, putting a hand on his chest and pushing him gently away. He had never been a smooth talker, and over the years that hadn't improved. Ordinarily she would overlook it, but tonight his attempts at being passionate where grating on her nerves more than ever. She shook her head and looked down. "It hasn't been that long." She sighed, rolling her eyes and thinking about the past few weeks. It had been a couple, but she was still trying to erase the memory.

Drunk Dmitri rambling about UFOs and the time he saw one, while wearing a t shirt with a stick figure beneath a spaceship saying "pick me", and panting "I believe" in her ear the whole time was not her idea of a good time. He wouldn't even take the damn shirt off. She'd finally slept with him hoping that it would tire him enough that he'd shut up and go to sleep. She was never going to one of his fucking UFO parties again.

He covered her hand with his own. " _Moya yagoda_ [My berry]," he murmured, moving closer once more. " _Ty sil'no nuzhen mne. Ja poterjal svoego pljushevogo mishku. Budesh' so mnoj spat'?_ [I need you so much. I lost my teddy bear. Will you go to bed with me?]." Leaning in to kiss her, Dmitri was honestly surprised when she pushed him away more forcefully.

"Enough. You think because you say sorry that I'm just going to jump right into bed with you? Start thinking with your head," Red spat. "The one above your shoulders. This is a shit apology Dmitri." She said smacking him on the backside of the head as she walked away. "I can't even talk to you right now. I'm going to put the boys to bed."

As Red made her way towards the back to the staircase that led upstairs to their home, she heard what sounded like chairs crash to the floor. Dmitri had never been a violent man, but his temper often got the better of him. She had noticed over the past few months he had become the target of most of the other men's jokes, but that wasn't an excuse. More and more he was spending time with them and sucking up instead of helping her with the business. She wondered if he would ever realize he was no more than their stooge.

It was ridiculous, at this point Vasily was more help than he was. Yuri tried, but he spent more time following in his father's shadow. It was something she planned on putting a stop to. It was one thing for her husband to hang around them with their crass jokes and attitudes of entitlement, but she would not have her son raised thinking that was okay. She had good boys, and Red wanted them to stay that way.

XOXOXO

Nicky paced around the small alley nervously. She knew this neighborhood well enough, it was hardly the worst. Still, hanging out at night around an area that Ganya frequented alone was not a good idea. Even the presence of the Reznikov's home being within yelling distance didn't bring her much comfort.

She inhaled heavily on her cigarette and twisted her cell phone nervously in her hand. Where the hell was Timur? "Hurry the fuck up," she hissed at the empty air. The back door of the shop slammed open screeching on its hinges, and Nicky let out a yelp of surprise. "Dammit, man," she said as she spotted Dmitri. Rubbing at the spot over her rapidly beating heart she shook her head. "You scared the fuck out of me."

"Sorry," he said, smiling warmly out her. "Just taking out the trash." He held up the trash bag as if evidence were needed.

The last person he expected to run into was the young woman. He knew what she was and had heard many stories about her from Ganya's men. Despite his best efforts, he'd never managed to get her to even look his way. He often told himself that there was nothing wrong with looking or even a little flirting, but he was also deeply offended that she had always ignored his presence.

"Is everything okay?" Dmitri asked, walking over to the dumpster and tossing the bag inside. She'd changed since that afternoon. Jeans instead of her usual sundress or skirt. It made her seem a little rougher around the edges. She was still beautiful, but her usual softness and flirty demeanor were replaced with a girl who wouldn't think twice about punching you or cussing you out.

Nodding, Nicky tossed her cigarette to the ground and stomped it out. "Yup," she answered, voice clipped in frustration. She was glad it was only Dmitri and not some stranger, but she was still annoyed that it wasn't Timur. He should have been there an hour ago.

"May I?" he asked in a weak attempt at sounding seductive. He gestured towards her ass, and took a step towards her. Building his courage up, he reached around her waist and pulled the pack of cigarettes out of her back pocket. Just being so close to her was tantalizing. He couldn't believe how bold he had just been and tried to hide the nervous tremor in his hands as he flipped open the lid and pulled a cigarette free.

Eyes opening wide, Nicky moved a hand over her ass defensively. She'd forgotten she had shoved them there rather than back in her bag. It was a bad habit, and she'd sat on more packs than she could count. It didn't change the way she felt at his forwardness. People assumed that she wouldn't think twice about men invading her personal space, but she kept very clear boundaries most of the time—especially with people she wasn't familiar with.

She'd known this man for weeks now and had never expected him to act so familiar with her. It unnerved her. Something about him seemed different than he was during the day. Maybe it was just a polite front for the customers that she was used to seeing. He was probably just as harmless outside of work, even with the slight change in personality.

He raised an eyebrow at her and popped the cigarette between his lips. "Don't tell me wife," he mumbled, gesturing for a light. He leaned forward hoping that she'd light it for him, but she thrust a scuffed up black lighter in his direction instead. Once he returned her things, he leaned back against the brick wall and smiled at her.

Nicky's phone rang and she quickly answered it. "Timur?" she asked, not bothering with formalities. "Where the fuck are you?"

Suddenly the idea of being alone with Ganya's man was not feeling like such a good idea, she was comforted by Dmitri's presence. She had never been with Timur before that afternoon and had assumed that he would be like the rest of the small circle. They had always been trustworthy and respectful with her. Ganya made sure of that.

Out back in the alley, she had quickly realized that was not the case—or at least not yet—with Timur. Once Red had turned them away, he'd walked her around back and pushed her against the wall. They had agreed that he would pay half up front and get her the rest later. He'd only had a little cash on him.

Ganya had assured her that Timur would pay, and so, she'd agreed. Taken in by his good looks and mysterious charm she was more inclined to bend her own rules. It might be nice to spend some time with someone young and good looking. She should have thought of that sooner. Good looking men did not hire prostitutes out of need.

The sex had been good, maybe too good. Not many men made sure that she finished, but once she had his touch became rougher and his energy changed to something more animalistic. She started to feel more like a meal than a quick roll in the hay. He didn't listen to her when she tried to slow him down, but nothing bad had happened. She was used to most of her clients doing what they wanted.

Standing in the alley now, she thought about how quickly his deep brown eyes had turned dark—almost black—cold, and penetrating. He never once seemed to stray from watching her, studying every move and noise she made. It had been unnerving.

"Natalya," he slurred, voice smooth and rich despite his state. "Listen honey-"

Turning to look at the spot they'd been at, a shiver ran down her back. Would anything happen alone at night? She was definitely glad to have Dmitri's company now. Looking over her shoulder to make sure he was still there, she caught his eyes roaming her body. Nicky gave him a tight smile when he looked up at her. It wasn't the first time she'd caught him looking.

"I'm not going to make it tonight," Timur explained.

"You son of a bitch. You said you'd bring the rest of it tonight," she hissed. _Fuck_. She needed that cash. She rubbed a hand against her forehead and began to pace again. _Fuck_.

If she had known sooner than she could have at least made some quick cash earlier. That idiot Larry had been calling her, but she'd been dodging his calls for two days now. He seemed like a nice enough guy, but she just hadn't been in the mood for inexperienced. He was nervous and rambled and she was saving him for a situation just like this.

Dmitri felt his stomach tighten at what he was hearing. She sounded freaked out and a little desperate for the cash. He resisted the urge to pull out his wallet and see how much cash he had. He couldn't seem overeager. He knew that much. Up until now she had always been fantasy, mostly. But now it was suddenly real—so real—and so close to becoming a reality.

"I know. I know, but I took the wife out you understand, and it's not like I can bring her down there to see _you_."

"Zoya? Really? What happened to being out of town with her sister? Don't fucking lie to me, you son of a bitch. You knew about this. We hand an agreement," she growled into the phone. "Don't for a minute think I'm not going to tell Ganya about this. He doesn't like it when people don't keep their word."

She heard Dmitri coughing, and shot him an annoyed look. He was holding his throat and glaring at the cigarette in his hand. Was he seriously trying to impress her?

"I don't know what you're getting so worked up about. Calm down, kitten. If you're that hard up for cash maybe we can get together again tomorrow, and you can earn a little bit more," he added, suggestively.

"Bring it tomorrow—and hey jackass, maybe actually pay the girl you're with right now." Without letting him get another word in, Nicky ended the call. "Fuck," she hissed, barely resisting the impulse to throw her phone against the wall. That money was supposed to catch her up at the motel. She'd slipped up this past week and had come up short—some things she just couldn't let herself walk away from. It shouldn't have been a problem, but she'd been careless and assumed that Timur would pay up.

"Problem?" Dmitri asked, sounding concerned. He attempted to flick his cigarette away, but it turned into more of a clumsy throw than anything else. Instead of snuffing it out, he kicked it into the small puddle beneath the AC's runoff. He hadn't actually smoked any of it, but that wasn't why he'd asked for one anyway.

Nicky ran an anxious hand through her hair. The humidity was relentless even at night. She could feel a sheen of moist heat pressing against her skin and knew the rest of the city was suffering the same problem. Her hair was what annoyed her the most though, the humidity was starting to take over, and she could feel the waviness of her curls coming to life. "Nothing you can help with," she said with a dark laugh.

"You sure about that?" Dmitri asked, walking towards her. His steps sounded heavy against the pavement and his shadow cast heavily against the wall from the streetlight above.

Stumbling backwards a step, Nicky frowned. He was starting to creep her out. "Positive," she said dryly. Standing her ground, she refused to shrink back as he continued to approach.

"Come on inside. Let me pour you a drink. That helps everything," he said, placing a hand on her lower back.

A drink might not be a terrible idea, she realized. Nodding, she let out a heavy sigh and allowed him to steer her inside. "I guess one for the road won't kill me," she said, sounding defeated.

Dmitri cast his eyes upward at the lit windows of his home. He had time to spare. It wasn't like his wife wanted him to rush home. She'd be busy with the boys for some time and probably go straight to bed. He looked back at Nicky and grinned as they moved inside. "In here," he said, locking the door behind them. Reaching down, he grabbed her hand, and led her towards the kitchen.

Nicky's lip curled in disgust at the touch of his hand. It was damp and his fingers were short and stubby making them feel swollen and stuffed. She tried not to think about that too much as she pulled her hand back gently. Wiping it off on her pants she blinked rapidly as the lights in the kitchen turned on. She had never been overly picky about her clientele, but she did have some rules.

They needed to look and be clean, be able to pay, not give her the vibe that they might kill her in an alley, and not cause her any unnecessary complications. It was the complications that Dmitri struck out with. Not only was he married with kids—not that that was always a red light, usually she didn't even see the family—but his connection to Ganya made her hesitant, as well as the fact that he seemed like the kind of guy who would get hung up on all the wrong things.

She didn't need some lovesick fool running around wanting to _save_ her or start being possessive and jealous. Once would never be enough for him. If things got messy Ganya would not be happy if he needed to get involved or find a new venue to frequent.

Opening the cupboard, Dmitri looked for the bottle of vodka he had stashed there. Galina didn't like him to keep hard alcohol around the house, and she fussed when he drank, so he'd tucked the fifth away out of sight. It wasn't worth fighting over, but it also wasn't worth giving up. He was a grown adult and could do as he pleased.

Hopping up on the counter Nicky swung her legs anxiously. She didn't know what she was doing there, other than avoiding going to talk to the motel owner. She owed him money and he wasn't the type of guy to work with you on credit. Maybe she was just delaying the inevitable.

Just a drink, she told herself. That would be enough to get her back to the motel and through that ordeal. Maybe half would be enough to appease him until the next day. Leaning back on her hands, she was surprised when she landed on a bit of flour. Red didn't seem like the type to have a messy kitchen. Wiping her hand off on her pants, she swallowed hard and looked around.

Everything smelled of dough and preserves, garlic and vegetables, and an array of more subtle smells—it was an odd combination, but between the sweets that Red made and the lunches they served it was an aroma Nicky was becoming accustomed to. Somehow it all blended together into something familiar—something safe.

"Here we go," Dmitri said, putting a bottle of Vodka roughly on the counter next to her. It was nearly empty and the brown mostly worn off label looked handwritten, but the clear liquid left no doubt in her mind what it was.

Nicky raised an eyebrow at him in amusement. "Vodka? Really? Nothing like the classics," she teased. Stereotypes become stereotypes for a reason, she was well aware of that, but this guy was predictable to a fault.

Dmitri, quick to impress, told her to hold on and went to the cooler. "Not just vodka," he explained over his shoulder as he searched for something. Coming back with a bottle of purple liquid he wiggled it excitedly. "I bet you've never had mors," he said, pulling out the bottle of juice the boys kept tucked away. At her uncertain look he continued, " It's quite popular back home. Like cranberry juice, but only it uses local Russian berries as well. You'll like it, I think." He grabbed two tumblers and quickly poured both cups of the juice with an added hefty amount of vodka.

"Thanks," Nicky said, holding up the glass to him in an unofficial cheer. She could smell the sharp taste of berries right away. With her typical "what the hell" attitude, she raised it to her lips. The juice was tart, but it hid the burn of the alcohol easily. She was thankful for that.

Dmitri was looking at her expecting some sort of reaction. He knew it wasn't anything fancy, but she didn't. Galina would laugh at him if she saw him now. She'd always seen through his attempts to impress her—even back when they were dating. In the beginning, she would try to pretend to be surprised and impressed, but he always felt like there was an eye roll just bursting to be set free.

Nicky nodded. "It's good," she said, taking another drink. At the pleased look on his face, her features softened slightly. "Thanks," she added. He might be awkward and try too hard, but he seemed like a good guy. Not many men would have been so friendly without being… _friendly._

"Anything for a beautiful woman," Dmitri teased, adding a little more vodka to his own glass of mors. He offered her more, but she waved him off. Taking the drink in three consecutive gulps, he wiped his mouth and began to pour another. "Just like home," he said.

Nicky watched him finish fixing his second drink and the queasy feeling she'd had when they first came in was back. "I should really get going," Nicky said. She'd only made it halfway through her drink.

He raised his eyes to Nicky's glass, and saw that she hadn't finished. Not ready for her to go yet, Dmitri covered her hand with his own. "Finish your drink. I'll call you a cab when you're done.

"Really," Nicky said with a forced smile. "I can't. Even if Timur had shown up, things are a little tight." She clenched her fist at the thought of what had happened. She needed to figure something out.

"My treat," Dmitri explained.

Nicky shook her head. "I couldn't. Nobody's got money to be throwing around on shit like that. I'll be fine." Draining her glass, Nicky set it on the counter ready to leave. When she hadn't been looking, Dmitri had somehow moved directly in front of her, blocking her from getting down. He wasn't in her space or overly crowding her, but getting down would give her even less space until he moved.

Dmitri nodded. "Some things are worth spending a little money on," he trailed off, implication clear that he wasn't talking about the taxi. "Especially safety," he added when his words didn't seem to take effect. Genuinely, though, he would pay for a cab. Despite her profession, and her devil may care personality, it wasn't a safe idea to be walking around after dark. "How much did he owe you?" he casually asked, sipping on his drink.

"Another $200," Nicky said with a heavy sigh. She shrugged and looked up at the ceiling. "It's my own damn fault; I know better than to bend the rules. Cash up front, but Ganya vouched for him—I don't think he had any idea he would do this though."

"$400 for sex? That's a lot of money," he laughed gently. "You must be pretty amazing." After a moment of awkward silence, he tried to change tactics. "You should tell him. Maybe he could spot you the money?" Dmitri added, knowing that no one in their right mind would call Ganya in the middle of the night with something that could wait until morning. Hopefully his concern would work in his favor though.

"It will get taken care of tomorrow," she explained, finding herself more at ease because of his concern. "It just kind of screwed me over tonight, ya know?" Nicky ran a hand through her hair, and piled it up in a knot with the hair tie on her wrist. "I should get going. I guess I can only put it off so long. I've got to go deal with the guy at the motel and see if he'll cut me a break."

"Pretty girl like you shouldn't have any trouble with him," Dmitri teased, laughing in jest. He felt his face grow hot at the idea of what she might do to barter her way through that kind of transaction.

Nicky grinned, remembering her conversation with Joe the week before. "I didn't have any trouble last week, but it's not gonna be so easy a second time around. He's an ass." Really all it had taken was a little flirting and a few lingering touches, but she knew that wouldn't work a second time.

"Ah, well, he doesn't know what he's missing then," he said. Dmitri saw his opportunity. He stepped towards her and leaned across her leg, feigning an innocence of merely putting his glass on the counter.

As he straightened back out, however, he slid a hand against her thigh about midway. He might have gotten away with innocence if he'd placed it just above her knee, but he wasn't caring about that.

If he was going to do this they needed to get a move on. Hopefully Galina would be angry enough with him that she would just go to bed. He was not a confident man, but he was confident in this situation. Maybe it was the alcohol, or the thrill of how wrong this was, but he knew that he needed to follow this through.

Nicky sat up straightly and carefully tried to push his hand away, but he didn't move it. Instead he started rubbing it up and down, a little higher each time. She needed to leave. Looking around the kitchen, she began to plan her escape. The back door was the closest.

"I think I can help you out after all," he said, speaking soft and gentle like you would to a skittish animal. "How much would you charge me for a turn? Price break for an old friend?" Dmitri reached up, hand brushing against her cheek. He moved his hand to the back of her head and pulled her hair back down, trailing his fingers down a lock as he slowly pulled back.

Nicky laughed nervously and brushed her hair off her neck out of his grasp. "Listen, I uh, appreciate the offer," she said, uncertain how to word this. "We both know that Ganya wouldn't be too fond of the idea. Besides, I don't think you really have the kind of money it takes to spend on me. Ganya and I have an arrangement when it comes to his guys, $400 flat rate. That doesn't exactly apply to you."

"I'll give you $25 for a blow job." The words spilled from his lips, and both of their eyes widened in surprise. His heart began to race, but it was equal parts terrifying and exciting. She was so close. He slid his other hand onto her opposite thigh and squeezed once more.

Without thinking about what he was doing, he moved his hands to her waist and pulled her closer as he stepped forward. Her legs slid wider around his hips and he let out a small moan at how close he was to her. He didn't just want her. He needed to have her.

Nicky pushed him away by the shoulders. "I gotta go," she said, sliding down. She didn't think Dmitri would be the type to get violent or forceful. He had always been more of a clown than anything else. This still wasn't a good situation. She'd just go and deal with Joe at the motel and be done with it.

"$50," he offered, walking after her. "$50 for a blow job?" His voice echoed through the empty room, as his desperation overtook him.

Nicky's eyes darted to the stairwell to their left. She'd seen their boys running up and down enough to know that it must be what led to their home. She wondered how far noise carried up the steps. Would Dmitri's wife hear the rumbling noise of people talking below? Part of her hoped that she could and would come down and put an end to this nonsense, but her anger overtook her care and she turned roughly on her heels.

"I just told you that even with Ganya's guys it's $400 for sex. Why do you think I'd charge you so little, even if it's for just a blow job? I may need cash, but give me some credit here. Just because I'm a whore doesn't mean that I don't have some sense of self-worth and dignity," she said, voice rising in anger.

She hated these types of dealings. It was part of why she had stuck around with Ganya and his men the past few months. It was steady work and the rates were set—no bargaining or arguments of any kind. They were done deals before anything even got started.

She'd made it inside the main room of the shop and was headed towards the back door. She heard him behind her, but he wasn't chasing—merely trying to keep up. "I'm gonna forget we had this conversation," she told him. "I suggest you do the same."

"Name a price," Dmitri said, finally grabbing her wrist. They stopped in front of the freezer and she ripped her hand away from his. She didn't keep walking though. He watched her shoulders as her breath rocked them in heavy nervous breathes. It was thrilling to watch. He wanted her and that was all he could focus on.

It would be so easy to do what he was asking and not deal with any more trouble that night. How hard would it really be to get him off? He didn't exactly seem like the type of guy who would have much stamina. He was desperate; she could feel it. There was only so far that she was willing to negotiate. This needed to be painful enough on his wallet that it wouldn't happen again, but cheap enough that he could afford it. "$75 for a hand job," she said mumbled.

"What about a blow job? How much?" He wasn't even thinking about what he was doing any longer. He was already hard, straining at the lack of space in his pants, and desperate to touch her. There were no other thoughts in his mind except what she could do to him.

He was committed to this. One blow job, that would be it. Just one taste of being with her. It would be a bump in the road, not cheating. Just one tiny moment that no one needed to know about. It wasn't like he was going to have sex with her. That was the important thing. Accidents could be forgiven.

Nicky could hear the tightness in his voice. This had already gone too far. She wasn't going to do that. Even the idea disgusted her. She didn't like oral sex to begin with, especially with men, but the idea of taking him in her mouth made her cringe. "More than you can afford," she said, chuckling dryly. She started walking again.

Dmitri grabbed Nicky by the shoulder and spun her around. "Wait," he urged, reaching in his back pocket and pulling out his wallet. His hands were shaking and he fumbled to open it and count out the cash. "$300," he pleaded. "Cash up front. Here," he said, shoving it in her hands before she even answered.

Nicky's eyes widened. She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out right away. "You're going to pay me $300 dollars for a blow job?" she asked in disbelief. That was a huge profit. Hell, he knew it was only a $100 shy of sex if he were one of Ganya's men. Why the hell would he offer her that? "You've got to be kidding me," she said, not wanting to get her hopes up. $300 would cover the difference, and she'd have a little left over.

"We're friends," he said, trying to sound kind and not frustrated. Stepping forward, he used her surprise to guide her backwards until her back hit the metal of the freezer door. He felt himself pressed against her and held back a groan. "Can't two friends just help one another out? You need money, and I... well, you know." He stepped back just enough that he could begin to undo his pants. He knew that she'd already given in.

Nicky dropped her head and shoved the bills into her bag. Taking a heavy breath and cursing her own desperate situation, she lowered herself to the ground feeling his heavy hand pressing on her shoulder. It was just too easy to pass up.

XOXOXO

Just a quick reminder:

Feedback is always welcome, especially on longer stories. It helps us out tremendously when we know what you're questions and thoughts are on the things we write. We can't always fill every request into the main plot if it conflicts with something already in the works, but we will try and work in as much of your ideas, concerns, questions etc. as we can.

As always, thanks for reading!


	3. Chapter 3: July, 22 - Monday

A/N: Hi all! Here's another update. (Go team!) The next chapter might take just a little bit longer to get up, and this seemed like a great place to leave you all hanging #dontkillus. Jo the little genius found a plot hole and we had to do some major plotting to get that taken care of. All I can say is that she is amazing and it has added an entire level of depth to this story than the original plan.

Hope you all are enjoying the ride!

***** **Trigger Warning** : This chapter includes graphic descriptions of a non-consensual sexual assault and verbal abuse.*****

XOXOXO

"Yuri? Vasily?" Red called as she entered the apartment. She could hear the TV and sighed at the racket. They were supposed to be doing their homework. She didn't think she'd be lucky enough for it all to be finished. Lately, they had been pushing off their responsibilities more and more.

It was an annoying snowball effect starting with her husband's lack of focus. He was spending more and more time trying to impress those men and not enough helping around the shop. Yuri followed his lead-something that she was rapidly losing her patience with-and Vasily followed his example.

The boys didn't seem to hear her come in, so she made her way into the living room. Walking over to the television, she turned it off right in the middle of whatever it had been that they were watching. She had half a mind to throw the damn thing out-she'd rather they be reading anyway.

At their noises of protest, she raised an eyebrow, warning them both to stop their nonsense. "I take it your homework and chores are done?" she asked, daring them to give her any more trouble.

"I didn't have homework, but I did all of my chores except two," Vasily announced, hoping that would be enough to save him. He already had the lightest load of the chores, and even he knew that there was no excuse for his to be left unfinished. He had to try though.

Red nodded but pursed her lips. "Yuri?" She cringed inwardly at his face. She was tired of having to be the bad guy. It was exhausting, and she knew that he was starting to feel resentful. She could see it in his eyes when she angered him. Red knew it was all part of being a mother. She was their parent, not their friend, but she missed the days when things were more carefree.

Crossing his arms, he looked up at her with defiance. "It's mostly done. I can do the rest in the morning," he whined.

The combination of young man and child was evident-all the attitude and none of the maturity. He was growing up too fast, and she felt like time was getting away from her. There was so much that she still wanted to teach them, so many things left to instill. "You can do the rest of it now," Red told him. "What about your chores?"

"He didn't even start them," Vasily tattled. He received a smack on the arm from his brother and a stern look from his mother.

"I've told you both before. I want to hear it from you not each other. If Yuri didn't finish-or even start-he needs to admit to it on his own."

Yuri looked downward, knowing that he had no excuse for not finishing. He had to try anyways. "I ran out of time. I was helping Papa all afternoon."

"Were you now?" Red asked, annoyed at the lie. "Because from what I saw, your father didn't do shit after lunchtime except screw around with those men and you were right on his heels. That's not going to keep happening. Your father is an adult, but you are not. I don't want you hanging out with them."

"That's not fair!" Yuri argued, rising to his feet. "I'm 12 now. You're the one who is always saying that I need to act it."

Red crossed her arms, staring him down until he began to look guilty. "You think a temper tantrum is acting like a grown man? Go to the table and get your homework done. You can do your chores first thing in the morning before school, and since you feel you have all this spare time to ignore them, I'm going to make a list of tasks you can add. You're grounded until I see some improvements."

Her oldest son glared at her, but she paid him no mind. She'd faced far worse opponents than an angry pre-teen. "Now," she growled. Red watched him until he grabbed his backpack and headed to the table.

Turning back to Vasily she sighed. "Go get in the shower. We'll have dinner after-and wash your hair don't just get it wet. I can see the dirt from here," she teased, tone softening as she spoke.

Red didn't favor either of them, but Vasily was of an age where he was so much easier to parent. He hadn't begun to rebel yet and was still scared into behaving with a simple look.

Vasily quickly did as he was told too fearful of his mother's wrath to follow in his brother's footsteps. There were days he pushed his luck, but at the mention of extra chores, he didn't want to have any added to his as well. "Okay, Mamochka." Standing up, he came over to her and hugged her around the waist before walking away.

Her tension slightly eased at the boy's sweetness-even if he was only making sure that he stayed out of trouble. Red sighed as she cleaned up the living room. She should have made them do it, but she was too tired to put up so much fight.

Physically she was exhausted, but that wasn't anything new. It was the mental exhaustion of her conversations with Dmitri that were wearing on her. It was no secret that their relationship was waning. Something needed to be done before it all went to hell.

Dinner ready, she called Vasily to the table and had Yuri put away his books. Once they were both done complaining about having spaghetti again, the mood from the earlier war lifted. It was a nice change to be able to sit down and spend time with the boys. So many nights these moments got lost in the shuffle of everything happening.

The only thing missing was their father. Red shrugged off that disappointment. It was his own damn fault. If he had been working all day, instead of screwing around, then he would be here too. She felt sorry that their boys missed out, but her disgust at her husband's priorities kept the sadness at bay. No longer wanting to give attention to those thoughts, she tuned back into the conversation the boys were having.

Between bites, Yuri was telling them about something his friends had been talking about. "So, then Robin said-"

"Blonde haired Robin or Brown haired Robin?" Vasily interrupted.

Yuri shot him a look out of the corner of his eyes and sighed. "Blonde Robin," he answered before continuing. "... so Robin said to Sarah," he started again.

Vasily raised his hand as he shot off his question. "Sara with an A or Sarah with an H?" He slurped one of his noodles into his mouth, leaving a residue of sauce around his lips.

"Sarah with an H," Yuri growled. "Why does it even matter? You don't even know any of them." He took a sip of his drink as he tried to collect his thoughts.

"I know people," Vasily said crossing his arms defensively.

"You don't know anyone except all the babies," Yuri snapped, stabbing a meatball with his fork.

"I know Kostya! And Lida!" Vasily said, sitting up on his knees, "-and I know what you said about her to Tommy with a Y."

Yuri flicked the meatball at him, thinking his mother wasn't paying any attention.

"Hey, hey, hey," Red scolded. "Enough with the food throwing. Yuri finish your story. And you," she said pointing at the youngest, "no more interrupting."

She was well aware of Yuri's crush on Lida. It was hardly news despite the pale look on her son's face. The pretty younger sister of his best friend-it was no surprise that he was a little smitten, even if she was closer to Vasily's age.

Pushing his plate forward, Yuri slouched in his chair. "I don't remember."

"Aww," Red cooed. "Don't be like that. I want to hear it."

Yuri shrugged. "It wasn't that funny anyway."

Red leaned across the table and grabbed his hand. She tugged on it until he looked at her and her pouting lip. "Tell me," she whined.

"Fine," he said, pulling his hand back. Robin turns to Sar-ah," he said, accenting this last part in his brother's direction, "and says 'he's not an eggplant, he's retarded'."

Red burst out in laughter at the joke. It had caught her off guard, and she couldn't help it. There jokes were usually more eyeroll worthy than funny, but this had been a good one.

It wasn't long before both boys were joining in. Vasily came over and sat down in her lap. "Can we play a game before bed?" he asked, having no idea or concern about what time it was.

"Mm, not tonight. It's getting late. Tomorrow, if you both get all your chores and homework done on time, maybe we'll have a game night huh?" They both nodded eagerly, and she nodded as well. This was a good turn around for them. "Be thinking about what games you want to play, but for now, come help me clean up."

The boys started clearing the table without fuss and made quick work of the dishes. As she wiped down the table and put away the leftovers, Red's mind trailed back to Dmitri's absence. Usually, she would make him a plate if he were late, but if he didn't want to be here than he could make his own damn plate.

Tonight had been wonderful, and he had missed it. Maybe it was time for them to sit down and talk; there was only so long that they could put it off. She'd had it with his childish tendencies and decided that tough love would be the new way of dealing.

Once she'd read to the boys and tucked them away in bed, she sat in the living room with her own book trying to focus on the words in front of her. It was no use though. All she could think about was Dmitri and how much she needed him to grow up. He still wasn't home and looking at the clock she knew he should have been done some time ago. It didn't take that long to clean up even if he'd done it the right way. She kept everything clean to begin with-evening chores were just maintaining that order. As far as the floors went, she hadn't expected him to do more than half ass it. She had hoped to sit him down and have a conversation with him about their lives, but it was almost too late for that.

After ten more minutes, she decided to go and find him and see what was taking so long.

XOXOXO

Red shut the door behind her and headed down the stairs. If they couldn't figure out how to fix things between them she wanted to know sooner rather than later. Spending time with the boys had allowed her some time to cool off, but that had only cleared her vision and solidified her need to address their problems. Things needed to change between them if they were going to last. It wasn't just about Dmitri's distractions and irresponsibility, it wasn't even completely about the boys-not anymore. She felt queasy at all that could change in their lives.

Red heard a heavy thump and what sounded like a weak cry. She froze, scared of what might be happening downstairs. She hated that Ganya and his men had picked her shop to spend their afternoons. Everyone knew who he was. His sort of business always warranted trouble, and that turned her shop into a target. That didn't even include the fact that Dmitri was making deals with him. Calling in her husband's debt wasn't the only thing he could do to them.

Creeping quietly down the stairs, Red held her breath. She could hear Dmitri talking, but couldn't make out what he was saying. Edging closer, she peeked around the corner. Her stomach twisted and knotted at the sight in front of her. Dmitri's pants were on the floor around his ankles, and he had the young woman pressed roughly against the silver door to the freezer. Her husband was by no means strong, but with this slip of a girl, it didn't seem to take much to keep her under his control. She recognized her instantly.

Tears streamed down the girl's face, and she was shaking her head no to whatever it was he was saying to her. Red took deep breaths in and tried to focus on his words. Blood rushed through her ears, pounding away at the sight in front of her. This couldn't be happening. Hand to her mouth she tried to bury her shock. She needed to move.

"Please stop," Nicky begged. "I already told you..." Her hands were on his chest, trying to push him away, in the same way Red had just that evening. Her feet pushed against the door behind her, trying to build up enough momentum and strength to knock him off balance.

" _Zatkni svoy rot, suka_ [shut your mouth bitch]!" Dmitri's hand moved to her chest, creeping towards her throat and holding her against the wall. "Be still," he hissed, leaning his weight against her. His fingers pushed firmly against her neck, and he let out an angry growl. He wasn't choking her, but his grip held her in place.

The girl's hands clawed at his, pleas spilling from her lips in an attempt to make him stop. His hand tightened, and her words rose in pitch as she begged and struggled to fight him off. It was a losing battle, but she wasn't giving up.

"You can give me a blowjob, but you're too good to be fucked? Did you really think I would pay you $300 for _just_ a blow job?" He reached between them, her pants and underwear already pulled down, and his arm thrust forward. As she cried out in pain, he let out a lustful growl. " _O, ty, blyad', shlyukha_ [Oh you fucking whore]!"

From where she was standing, Red couldn't see past his face, just a dark shadow across his back. This was not her husband-it couldn't be. Where was he? Why wasn't he stopping this? She could hear his voice, but something in her brain refused to connect it to the words that rang through the room.

" _YA khochu, chtoby ty trakhnul menya!_ [I want you to fuck me]! Is it more money you want? Done. I'll triple what we agreed on. Does that change your mind _shlyukha_ [whore]?" He was biting at her neck, hissing in her ear, enjoying every squirm she made. For too long they had all brushed him aside, treated him like he was nothing. She was a fucking whore. How dare she try to make him feel foolish.

Nicky didn't understand half of what he was saying-harsh venomous Russian phrases mixed with whining English complaints. None of it made much sense to her, but she got the general meaning behind it. All she knew was that the angrier he got, the more his words slipped between the two languages.

Trying to cry out for help, Nicky squirmed beneath his grip, attempting to escape. Her skin rubbed and burned at his touch. There was too much friction, but it wasn't stopping him. She built up her resolve and tried to get away again, but it only seemed to increase his energy. He was enjoying it.

"You're not too good for Ganya are you though? _Tupaya suchka_ [stupid bitch]. Not too good for his slimy goons either. I see you in here with them _yebat' ikh_ [fucking them]. You think I don't know what you're doing? Well, _moya ochered'. YA sobirayus' pogubit' tebya. YA sobirayus' trakhat' tebya_ [It's my turn now. I'm going to fuck you. I'm going to ruin you]."

Red saw the way his arm moved against her with rough, heavy strokes. The young woman's eyes made contact with her own gaze, and she let out a broken cry-wordlessly begging for mercy. It was that moment that spurred Red into action. "Dmitri," she yelled, marching over to them. "What the fuck do you think you're doing? Get off of her." She grabbed him by the shoulder and pulled him away.

Her eyes were full of fury, and she could see his panic at her interruption. "Galina..." he sputtered, not knowing what to say. He wanted to tell her to leave-to go back upstairs and mind her own business, but she terrified him. His whole life centered around how he handled this moment. "It's not what it looks like. We were just... this is the first..."

Red's hand made contact with his cheek and the words streaming out of his mouth ceased. His hand came up to cover the stinging flesh. "I don't care if it's the first time. There shouldn't be any times." She grabbed him by the front of his shirt. "I ought to save us all from your patheticness and cut it off."

Taking a sharp breath, she looked over at the young woman. She was crumpled on the floor hugging her knees to her stomach and crying against them. She hadn't even pulled her pants back up. She was still in shock most likely. It was just as well, because Red could only deal with one problem at a time. The girl looked younger than ever to Red, and her heart clenched in response to the sight.

She tore her eyes away and looked back to her husband. Red let out a growl of distaste. "If you wanted to spend time with a child you have two of them upstairs who could use a father. What the fuck is wrong with you? First you pay her for a blow job, and then you try to rape her when she won't fuck you?" Once she had awakened from her own shock it hadn't taken much for her to put all the pieces together. "You are not the man I thought I married."

She caught movement out of the corner of her eyes. The young woman's head snapped up. Red once more found herself distracted. It wasn't like it was a surprise that they had children. The boys were constantly all over the shop and underfoot. Maybe the dark shadows of the evening made it feel less real, but you couldn't hide from reality, and it wasn't Red's job to shield her from that.

"Look at her," she hissed, waving a hand in the young woman's direction. "She's not even ten years older than our son. What the fuck were you thinking? You know what? It doesn't matter. You weren't thinking, and that says it all. Pull up your fucking pants and get out."

"Galya, _moya yagoda_ [my berry], please," Dmitri said, reaching for her hand which was promptly slapped away. "You're supposed to count to ten when you're angry," he said, as he pulled up his pants and started to fasten them. "Just breath." He could see her shaking with anger and knew that he was only making things worse. "You're angry, I understand. You don't know what it's been like for me lately... but we can fix this. I know we can."

"Oh, I can fix things if you really want me to," she dared, gesturing to his crotch. "I said leave-begging only makes you more pathetic. I can't believe you would do this," she said rubbing the heel of her hand against her forehead. "You stupid fucking man. Get out," she said, feeling disgusted. She had shared a bed with this man for years, yet she felt like she didn't even know him.

Realizing that there was no way that he could reason with her, he dropped his head. "I'll come back tomorrow," he said softly. He glared at the young woman, wordlessly blaming her for what had happened. If she had just let him finish and not put up such a fight then things would be different.

"You'd be smart to not come back at all," Red said, temper rising. She was just barely in control of herself, feeling her rage course through her veins like acid. She may want to kill him, but they had sons, a business, and-apparently-even more debts to be paid. She'd be damned if she'd inherit all of his responsibilities.

Already her brain was going into overdrive-he could borrow more from his good buddy Ganya and buy her out. That would be the best-case scenario. He'd pay for the damn dishwasher too. He was not getting out of that-hell, he could take the damn thing and live in it for all she cared.

She watched his back until he left the store. Letting out a heavy sigh, she walked over to the girl on the floor. "He's gone," Red said, voice snappy and fierce. She hadn't meant to be quite so coarse, but there was nothing to be done about it. "Get up off the floor," she said, offering her hand to help her out.

The young woman looked up at her and Red's breath caught in her chest. Tear stained cheeks and smudged eyeliner met her gaze. "What's your name?" Red said. She cleared her throat trying to keep a strong front. She knew how she felt about her husband, but she couldn't decide how she felt about this girl.

"Natalya," the young woman responded, looking away. She rose to her feet without accepting Red's help and quickly fixed her clothes.

Rolling her eyes Red shook her head. She didn't care what the girl wanted to call herself, not right then. "Did he hurt you?" she asked, grabbing the girl by the biceps. She looked her up and down, but knew that not all wounds might be visible. Tracking the girl's movements, she watched as she rubbed her hand across the base of her neck.

"No," she lied. She could see it in Red's gaze-she didn't believe her. Nothing to be done about it though. Even if she had been severely hurt-which she hadn't been-how could she possibly expect this woman to help? Not after what had just happened. If she hadn't been there... if she hadn't come inside... This woman's world had just been flipped upside down. She moved a hand to her lower stomach, an aching pain still fluttering inside. She embraced that pain and felt herself stand taller. "I'm fine."

Reaching forward, Red moved the hair away from her neck and saw the beginning of bruises outlining Dmitri's fingertips, and a long angry red line across the top of her shoulder and base of her neck. She closed her eyes and felt her shoulders tense. How dare he.

"Is there someone I can call? A family member? A friend?" her voice softened. Quietly she looked into Nicky's eyes-making a choice-and asked, "The police?" She felt like she was choosing a side, but she felt no guilt for the one she picked-only sadness. Sadness for her marriage, her boys, and this girl in front of her. None of them deserved this.

The young woman shook her head. Biting her lip, she asked, her voice sounding rough and strained, "Could I have some water?"

Red nodded and moved to fulfill the request. Lost in her thoughts she didn't hear the girl even move, but as she turned around, she heard the hinges on the back-door squeak. She closed her eyes and put a hand on her chest. She didn't need to look to know the girl had bolted.

She leaned against the doorway and sighed. Just to do something, until her mind caught up to what had just happened, she drank the glass of water herself and wondered what she was going to do now. Not knowing how long she had been lost in her thoughts, Red finally walked to the back door, locked up, and headed upstairs.

XOXOXO

Just a quick reminder:

 _Feedback is always welcome, especially on longer stories. It helps us out tremendously when we know what you're questions and thoughts are on the things we write. We can't always fill every request into the main plot if it conflicts with something already in the works, but we will try and work in as much of your ideas, concerns, questions etc. as we can._

Jo and I were thinking about starting up a GroupMe chat. Let us know if anyone is interested!

As always, thanks for reading! ~ Jo & A


	4. Chapter 4: July, 22 - Monday

A/N: Sorry this took so long! It's been a rough couple of days, and I didn't want to rush through this to make up for that. You'll see that it's just a little bit longer than the other chapters so far. I hope that helps. Enjoy!

XOXOXO

Nicky was two blocks away before she realized that she didn't have her bag with her. She stopped in her tracks. Looking at the sidewalk behind her. Bringing her hand up to her mouth, she chewed on her thumb nervously. There was no way she could go back. Everything she needed was in that bag. She shook her head and snorted out a breath of disbelief—at least she had her cigarettes.

Reaching into her back pockets, Nicky found a pack of crushed cigarettes in one and her cell in the other. She hadn't even realized she'd shoved it in her pocket. Pressing the button, her screen briefly lit up just long enough to show her the cracks dashed along the screen like an intricately designed spider's web before it flickered off.

Hopefully, it was just dead and not totally trashed. As she moved to put it back in her pocket it smashed to the ground. Her hands were shaking so badly that they were practically useless. She stared down at it on the concrete, mind so foggy and disengaged that she had to force herself to pick it up. Fumbling in the shadows, she searched for it accidentally sticking her hand in a puddle of who knew what.

The screen must have cracked when she'd hit the freezer. Dmitri had pushed her with such force that it had knocked the air right out of her. It was no surprise that it had possibly killed her phone. Mindlessly, she rubbed at the back of her head, she was probably going to have a goose egg by the morning.

A door slammed open and Nicky startled. She heard the drunk slurring of at least two men talking loudly. She cringed and wiped her hands off on the back of her pants—praying that it wasn't urine from some drunk making his way home—before locating her phone and putting it away.

Nicky flipped the top of the pack open, but there wasn't anything salvageable. "Of course not," she muttered, as she shoved the pack back into her pocket. She'd dump them later. Looking up at the sky in frustration, she silently asked the universe if there was anything else that it wanted to throw at her.

Fuck Dmitri. How could she have been so stupid? Everything in her gut had told her it was a bad idea, but then he'd change and act normal again, and she'd felt sorry for him. It was a stupid decision, and now, here she was halfway to the motel and she didn't have a single thing on her. She didn't even have the cash Timur had given her to try and bargain with. Fuck.

Nicky was pissed off, but a part of her knew that the anger was the only thing keeping her moving. Bad judgment call. Continuing to walk, she pressed a hand to her stomach. Jackass. She paused for a moment to pull her jeans a little lower and away from her sensitive crotch. Stupid. More steps and she huffed at the way her pants chafed at her thighs. It was better than the ache they'd been causing though. Maybe she had just been lucky, but nothing like this had ever happened to her before.

She had been sloppy—broke her own rules twice in one day. She growled low under her breath at herself. She had to hang on to the anger. There would be plenty of time for blame later. She would not crumble. Nicky walked a few more steps, scrubbing a hand down her face. Keep moving. Her chest felt heavy and tight.

As she approached the nearest building, she stumbled and her knees started to weaken. She put a hand out to brace herself but staggered until she leaned heavily against the brick wall instead. She would not crumble. Bending over, hands just above her knees she took in several heaving breaths. The scent of rotting garbage and wet cardboard from some nearby dumpster hit her and she began to gag, the sensation pushing her over the edge.

A rolling heat rushed up her throat and she puked on the ground next to her. She hadn't eaten much that day—nothing since breakfast, and in a matter of moments her stomach had spilled its contents empty, and she was dry heaving. Salty tears stung at her eyes as her own sweat and makeup bled into them.

Wiping her mouth and nose with the back of her hand, she slid down to the ground not even caring about the smell wafting in her direction. She didn't notice it. Her cheeks were wet, and she hated that. She pulled up her shirt to wipe her face off on the inside of it. She felt weak and dizzy, but none of that mattered. She would not let that man break her.

Rising to her feet quickly, Nicky wiped off the gravel and dirt from her ass. "You got this," she said, trying to psych herself up. Rubbing her tongue throughout her mouth she built up enough saliva that she spit what she could on the cement. She could still taste the vomit, but it was at least a little better. Nicky let the anger rise within her once more. How dare he. Without thinking about what she was doing, she slammed her fist against the wall. "Gaaah," she whimpered, holding it to her chest and bending over.

White hot heat coursed through her fist, right to the bone. She kept her eyes firmly shut, and sucked her bottom lip into her mouth. Taking heavy shuddering breaths, she let the sensations wash over her. Adrenaline coursed through her veins and suddenly she felt calmer—steady. Oxygen finally started to feel like it was filling her lungs again and a lightness seemed to fall upon her, clearing her head. A shaky laugh slipped from her lips and she wondered if she was going crazy.

After a few minutes, she stood up and shook her hand lose. She hissed in pain, but it was exactly what she was looking for. Brushing the remaining tears away, Nicky straightened her back and began the walk to the hotel. She'd be damned if Joe was going to give her any trouble about her bill. There was no way he was throwing her ass out, she would make sure of that.

XOXOXO

Cutting across the dark parking lot, Nicky made her way towards the motel office. At least if she'd had her key, she'd be able to try and sneak in. Now she'd have to go deal with Joe. She was honestly surprised that he wasn't camped out at her door. He didn't know what she did for a living, but the way he was always leering she knew what he was thinking. Walking past her door, she snatched the hanger off the handle reminding her of her bill. It wasn't the first time he'd left one.

Walking into the small office, Nicky slammed the hanger on the desk. "Look I know I owe you money. You'll get it tomorrow. My bag got stolen, and I am not in the mood for your bullshit. Just give me the key," she asked, gesturing for him to hand it over. When he simply grinned at her, she banged her palm on the desk and jerked her body in frustration. "Come on man."

"Why Ms. Nichols," he said, voice full of over the top politeness. "Lovely to see you too. How was your evening?" Leaning forward against the desk, he looked far too amused by her struggle.

With a heavy sigh, Nicky shook her head. "I really just want to go to bed asshole, please give me the damn key," she pleaded. Her eyes darted from his to the wall behind him. She curled her lip into a snarl at the "hang in there" kitty poster on the wall.

Framing the poster was a hoard of trashy vintage novel covers torn off from the books. High School Orgy Society. Make Mine a Harlot. Pretty Puppet. Perversity. Dance-Hall Dyke.

She didn't want to know what he'd done with the actual books. Probably tucked away in a drawer with a hand towel and lotion. The covers were faded and worn from age, but somehow seemed perfectly acceptable decor for Joe's. Honestly, she was surprised he didn't have them all blown up and hung around the place like wall art.

"Ah, but you brighten my days with your cheerfulness, it's the highlight of my every day. Tell you what," he said, leaning forward, elbows on his desk. "How would you like a little good news?" A slow, lazy grin spread across his face as he waited for a reaction.

Slumping down in one of the empty chairs, Nicky held her hands up in frustration. "Okay you win, let's talk. What is this great news you have for me?" She looked down and began to pick at the stuffing coming out of a crack in the teal, fake leather. "You got anything to drink back there?" Nicky asked, hopefully. "Preferably not anything remotely like juicy-juice."

Joe gave her an odd look but grabbed the bottle of whiskey he kept in his drawer. He came around and sat down across from her, pulling the chair closer. The chair screeched as he moved it and he watched her shiver and grab her jaw in response. "Sorry."

Grabbing the bottle, Nicky unscrewed the top and tossed the lid into one of the pots of his pressure plants. She took a hefty pull of the amber liquid and wiped her mouth off on the shoulder sleeve of her shirt. The young woman closed her eyes as the burn shot down her throat and into her stomach. She swore her mouth still tasted of that damn drink Dmitri had made her, among other things. The whiskey worked as a catalyst, washing the taste from her and she felt at least a little disinfected.

Glaring at the cap, Joe just stared at her for a minute in annoyance. He cared about his plants the way other people cared about their children. He held her room key in his hand and bounced it against his knee as he studied her. With a smirk on his face, he nodded his head. "First, why don't you tell me about this purse snatching?"

Flashes of Dmitri's breath on her skin caused her to shiver. She had never been that scared before. Her pulse began to race at the memory and she bit roughly at the inside of her cheek to keep her chin from wobbling.

"It's a bag," Nicky corrected.

Joe shrugged his shoulders and held up a hand. "Is there a difference?"

She waved off his question. "It's just a thing. Forget it."

"Fine. Tell me about the bag snatching," he said, sarcasm emphasizing the label.

"What do you care?" Nicky asked, laughing darkly. "Isn't your money all you're worried about?" She took another hit off the bottle and slumped further into the chair, hugging one arm protectively across her hips. Maybe she could talk him into letting her keep the bottle and finish it. Staring at the ground, she scuffed her shoe against an old piece of gum stuck to the floor.

"I'm wounded," he said, leaning back and putting a mocking hand on his chest. "I thought we were friends." The sleazy motel owner thought she seemed like a good person and wouldn't mind it if she stuck around for a while. He wasn't an angel, but he wasn't complete scum either.

Friends. She was starting to hate that word. "With friends like these..." she muttered under her breath. "Here's the long version," she said, leaning forward, braced on her knees, "Walking down the street, guy comes up, guy pushes me against the wall, guy rips the bag right off my shoulder, guy runs off. Any questions?"

"You go to the cops?" he asked. He did care about Nicky in a weird way. It was the kind of care that you develop about people you've become familiar with. It wasn't the kind of 'I'd get my ass kicked for you loyalty,' but he'd be sad if something happened to her.

"Fuck no. Sit around there all night just to say hey some random ass guy stole my bag to some bored cop who has nothing to go on and a million better things to do? Pass," she started to bounce her leg nervously, but the jolt of pain that hit her made her wince. Reflexively she moved a hand up to her neck and rubbed at the soreness. "So, what's this good news?"

Joe sat up straighter and rubbed his hands together. He'd almost completely forgotten about what it was he wanted to tell her. "Well," Joe started, "your room has been taken care of for the rest of the week." It shouldn't have been anything for him to get excited over, but he had a feeling that there was a story behind this.

Nicky raised her eyebrows in anger. Taken care of for the week? Who even knew she was there? Ganya? He wouldn't do that. "By who?" she asked from behind gritted teeth.

Rubbing his hands together Joe grinned at her. He always loved a scandal unless it brought him trouble. This time, however—if he were right in his thinking—he'd just learned some fascinating things about his favorite tenant. "Well I didn't get a name, but tall, blonde, dressed too nice for this dump."

Fuck. "Did you tell her I was here?" Nicky asked panic etching into her voice. Rising to her feet, Nicky began to pace the small office.

"Not exactly," Joe explained. "I didn't say no, but I said I wasn't sure and that I'd let her know if I saw you. She wouldn't have given me the money if I hadn't. I assumed she was your... uh... you know..." he prompted, leering at her body in suggestion.

Nicky rolled her eyes and shook her head, bringing her fingers to her mouth. "She's my mother, not my pimp."

She couldn't wrap her head around it. Why the hell would Marka be looking for her? The last time they'd seen each other—hell every time they'd seen each other—had not gone well. After so much time away, without that woman trying to control every aspect of her life, and worse, she thought she was free.

"Fuck," she growled kicking one of the chairs. "If she comes back here..." she started.

"First my plants, now my chairs? Settle down there, slugger," Joe said, standing up. "Isn't this a good thing? I mean, about the money at least?" No one wanted their mom searching after them if they didn't want to be found, but Nicky seemed more than just your regular level of freaked out. He was even more interested now. He dug the cap out of the pot and blew it off before closing up the bottle.

Nicky laughed—this could not be happening right now, not tonight. "Nothing about that woman is a good thing." She ran both hands through her hair and let out a frustrated sigh. "I want a different room," she said, leaning heavily across his desk. "I'll pay you tomorrow, but I'm not staying in that one."

Ignoring her question, he couldn't resist asking. Joe's lips spread into a large excited grin. "So, I gotta ask, you are a... you know..." He wiggled his eyebrows in eager excitement, nodding knowingly.

"Yes, genius. I'm a hooker anything else?" Nicky asked impatiently. Her head was swimming with fear, anxiety, and worry. Too much had happened in one night. At his silence, and glazed eyes, she continued, "Listen, if she comes back, the girl you thought might have been me turned up, stayed the night, and left. You give the money back, and you swear to me that you won't tell her." His word didn't mean too much to her, but he seemed like the kind of guy that held onto guilt when it came to screwing people over—at least in significant ways.

He shook his head and stepped in front of her to get her still for two seconds. "You want me to give the money back?" he asked, tone slow with disbelief. Both hands on her shoulders, he ducked his head to her level.

Nicky nodded. "You offer to give it back, and she'll tell you to keep it. Trust me on this one. If she doesn't, I'll give it to you."

It looked like she was going to have a full day tomorrow, but she could handle it. It's not like she didn't have some regulars that were always easy to meet up with. Plus, there was that Larry guy, but she'd held off knowing he couldn't afford her.

"You're gonna get me the money? You don't even know how much she paid me," he laughed. There was no way she could come up with it that fast.

Rolling her eyes, Nicky waved her hand for him to tell her. "Whatever it is I'm sure it's more than she should have offered."

He cleared his throat and tried to keep his voice even as he spoke. "$1200 for the week, plus $500 if I see you," he told her.

Turning on her heels, Nicky blinked at him. "Really? You're so full of shit," she said with a smirk. "She gave $800 for the week, and what $250 if you see me? Nice try." At the slack-jawed look on his face, she smirked. "I know my mother, she throws it around, but she's not a fool about it either. Just enough to sway you without question."

"Fine," he said, shaking his head. "A grand for the week since I already had to turn people away, but you double the $250. Lying for you a second time is going to cost you."

She knew he was lying about turning anyone away, but he had the upper hand here. Nicky did the math in her head. She could probably get $200 from Larry, he seemed overly eager, and with two of Ganya's guys, she'd have the $800. Hopefully, she could go back to the shop and get her bag, plus with what Timur owed her, and that would take her up to 1k.

She felt queasy at the thought of taking Dmitri's money. It just felt tainted now. If she took it she'd break even. If it really came down to it, she knew Ganya would spot her the cash for a favor or two. "Done," she finally agreed.

"Someone's gonna be a busy girl tomorrow," Joe said, with a boyish grin on his face. "What's the uh- going rate, if I might ask?" He leaned towards her with raised eyebrows and a curious look.

She didn't want to think about what images his dirty mind was coming up with. "More than your sleazy rooms cost," she snapped.

"Well, I guess that's a good thing for you then," Joe said, standing up taller. "I mean... there is still the issue of payment for your room tonight." His eyes trailed down her body with greedy interest.

Sitting back down, Nicky leaned forward resting her arms on her thighs. "You've got to be fucking kidding me," she laughed. She was going to cry if she didn't. This night couldn't get any more fucked up. Dmitri. Marka. Now this manipulative bastard.

Joe sat down next to her and placed a hand on her back. "Now that I think about it, she did leave a number for me to call if I saw you. I mean, there's always that option. I bet with a little smooth talking I could get her to pay a bit more for that information."

"Man, I am not sleeping with you," she grumbled, shrugging his hand off. "Are you fucking kidding me? You know I can just walk out of here, right?"

"And what, get some other motel owner to sleep with you last minute? With that baby face? You reek of a police sting. Besides, Ms. Nichols, and I do know that's your real name and I have an idea of the kind of trouble you might be in."

"You don't know shit," Nicky said defensively. She bounced her knee rapidly—not even noticing the pain it brought—and flicked her thumb against her pants.

Joe gave her a sympathetic smile that Nicky knew was more mocking than anything else. "You sure about that? I've got this buddy that works down at the precinct, and I had him look you up when you first checked in."

"You had him run a background check? What the fuck man? That can't be legal."

"Not the point. You came back clean, but your moms already had you listed as a runaway. Considering her position, I know I'd be a little nervous if I were you. She doesn't seem like the type to welcome you home with open arms. More of a corporal punishment sort if the rumors are true? Apparently, there were some concerns a few years ago, about your medical history?"

Nicky drew her legs up in the chair and closed her eyes. "Fuck you," she hissed, already knowing she didn't have much choice. She dropped her forehead to her knees, thankful for the curtain of hair protecting her terrified look from his penetrating gaze.

Even if she did take off, Marka would become even more resolved. If she found out even the smallest bit of information there was no way she'd just give up. How the hell had she even figured this much out? There were at least half a dozen motels in the neighborhood alone.

"Well, that's the general idea here," he said, standing up and walking to back behind his desk. He grabbed his own set of keys and flipped on the no vacancy sign out front. When it didn't come on, he flipped the switch several times. "Son of a bitch, Donaldson was supposed to fix that."

Shifting in the chair uncomfortably, Nicky could still feel the burning in her crotch. "You already made your money," she said, hoping she could still sway him. She grabbed the bottle that he'd left on the side table and began to chug it once more. She had a feeling that she would be grateful for its numbing effects in just a little while.

"Yeah," Joe said, turning back around. "But that was for your mother's room—the one that has stayed vacant tonight because I haven't seen you. How are you gonna pay for tonight's? I've told you before. I don't do credit."

Looking down at her hand, Nicky tilted the bottle and hissed as the alcohol hit her skin and then dropped onto the floor. She laughed when Joe turned around and glared at the mess she'd made. Standing up, she took another sip. Sighing in frustration she figured that a night on the street might be better than this. She was better than this. Nicky bit at her bottom lip and shook her head in frustration. "You're an asshole," she said, starting to walk away.

"Hey," Joe said snatching her by the arm. "Where the hell you gonna go? I'm trying to do you a solid here, but I will call her. I like you, Nichols. I don't want to have to do that." Pulling her closer, he felt a shot of heat spread straight to his groin.

Nicky dropped her head. "Fine, just... fine. Fifteen minutes though. You get fifteen minutes, and that's it. If you don't finish in that time—not my problem." His rooms didn't cost nearly as much as he would have had to pay her, and if she were honest, she didn't know how badly it might hurt after Dmitri had been so rough when he'd... She was just glad it was only his fingers and not worse. Nicky knew that she needed Joe to be quick about it just in case.

Holding up a finger and pointing it at her, Joe added his conditions. "Fifteen minutes, of actual sex." He moved closer so that she had to crane her neck to look up at him.

"Fine," Nicky agreed. She felt defeated and helpless, but the alcohol was starting to give her the welcoming haze of blissful indifference. She could get through this. She would not crumble.

He licked his lips in anticipation, and his eyes lit up. "Like when I actually get inside," he said, the excitement in his voice palpable, as well as the rising bulge in his pants.

She needed him to shut up. "Got it. I know how sex works Joe. Just- I need to get some stuff out of my room first."

Nodding, he grabbed a second key for the new room. "Since you insist," he said. Leading the way, he held the door open for her and locked up behind them. "Your new one is right next door," he explained as they reached the door.

"Great," Nicky grumbled, not caring where the room was. They walked towards the room and Nicky shrugged off the arm he tried to wrap around her shoulder. "We're making a deal here not fucking dating," she growled.

They turned the corner and passed a room with a woman screaming loudly obviously in the midst of some very vigorous sex.

Joe grinned. "Senator," he explained, "and his wife." When Nicky rolled her eyes, he jostled her arm with his. "And his boyfriend."

"You should up your rates," Nicky said flatly, pointing to the $60/hr offer listed on the marquee. "Obviously your clientele can afford to pay a little extra." She reached back for her cigarettes forgetting that they were crushed until she popped the lid open. Tossing them into a trashcan they passed, she asked, "How much does your silence cost them?"

She could care less who was fucking whom, how much they were paying, or anything else about the conversation, but it was better than him talking about what they were about to do.

Joe shrugged. "The wife, she comes and blows me every time they need a room."

"A blow job? Really?" Nicky said in annoyed disbelief. "Seems pretty low for the amount of scandal that could cause."

"Eh, it's steady," he explained. "Just like clockwork, once a week these three show up and I'm a happy man."

Arriving at her room, Nicky snatched the key from his hand and unlocked the door. She yanked on it roughly as it stuck in place until it popped loose and swung open. "Seriously Joe, you need a fucking new maintenance guy or get out of your office and do it yourself lazy bastard."

He ignored her complaining, understanding that she was going to stay in a bad mood until it was over. Leaning against the doorframe, he whistled jovially as he waited for her to get her shit.

She grabbed her duffel bag and quickly packed up the clothes she had, her belongings in the bathroom, and the rest of her stuff scattered around the room. "Okay," Nicky said, once she was finished. "How you wanna do this?"

"Let's go christen the new room?" Joe said, thumbing towards next door.

Huffing out her frustration, Nicky looked up at the ceiling. "I don't trick in my own bed. Come on man," she begged.

"And I don't sleep with prostitutes. There's a first time for everything. Let's go." He grabbed her by the wrist and tugged her along towards the new room.

Once inside, Nicky dumped her bag in the chair at the small desk and began taking her shirt off. The room smelled musty and she didn't even want to think about when the last time he'd washed the sheets was.

Walking over to the small window unit, he turned the AC unit on hoping that the airflow would make the room smell a little less dingy. The fan blew for about thirty seconds before something inside began to grind. He quickly turned it back off. "I'll have-"

"Donaldson look at it," Nicky finished. "Got it. Nothing's changed from one room to the next. It's still all crap that doesn't work. Hopefully, the plumbing doesn't leak in this one." She kicked off her boots, trying to ignore the dried vomit she spotted, and began to shimmy out of her jeans.

"No show?" Joe asked, hoping that she'd be a little more involved. "What happened to a good time?" With a glare from the young woman, he shut up.

"You want to make it ten minutes?" Nicky snapped. Unhooking her bra, she looked up at him. "Hurry the hell up; I'm tired." She swayed slightly and smiled, at least the alcohol was doing its job.

"Alright. Alright," Joe said, undoing his belt and quickly taking the rest of his clothing off. Who was he to argue with a beautiful, naked woman that he was about to have sex with?

Nicky dug into her bag and pulled out a condom packet and tossed it at him. "Here. I'm guessing you didn't bring one." She laid down waiting impatiently. It wasn't the sex that she really cared about. It was the way she felt making this kind of deal. It was sleazy and pressured. She slept with men for money all week long, but this moment more than any others made her feel like a whore. It was a wake-up call that she did not need right then.

"Will you hurry the hell up? You do know how to use that right?" Nicky's voice was full of barely contained anger. She hurt and felt disgusting from what happened with Dmitri. She tried not to think about it, but she couldn't stop hating herself for the way things were turning out. How could that have happened and she still be willing to do this?

"Yes, Miss-know-it-all. I'm just setting my watch," Joe explained. He bent over and dug around in his jacket to pull out his glasses. Angling the watch towards the light, he played with it until he figured out how to work the timer.

As Joe, stood there completely naked in his glasses messing with his watch, she felt her stomach turn. It was not a sight anyone should have to bear witness to.

Groaning, Nicky dropped one arm over her eyes. "You fucking timing yourself?" she asked. Slipping a hand down between her legs, she closed her eyes and tried to work herself into at least a mild state of arousal. She was still sore, but it wasn't unbearable. The idea of penetration made her cringe.

"For your information," Joe said, "I'm just making sure I get my full fifteen minutes." He finished with his watch and made quick work of the condom. Once he was ready, he looked up at her and realized that she was all spread out before him. His eyes raked up and down her body, enjoying the sight of every curve.

Looking down at her, Joe briefly thought about how young she looked without clothes on. She was in great shape, but there was something soft about her that he didn't expect. She always carried herself with such confidence and angry aggression that it wasn't what he expected.

Sitting forward on her elbows, Nicky gestured with her chin towards her bag. "There's a bottle of lube in the side pocket there. Grab it for me," she demanded.

"Lube? Really?" Joe said, only mildly offended that she wasn't as interested in this experience as he was. "You know I could always, help you out with that. I've been told that my oral technique is quite the turn on," he said with a grin.

"I'm gonna pass on that. Hurry it up." Like hell, she was going to let him go down on her. The last thing she wanted him to think was that this was anything other than a job for her. That, and the fact that he creeped her out.

Climbing up on all fours from the foot of the bed, Joe moved up until he was kneeling between her legs. "May I?" he asked, gesturing towards her crotch. At her nod, he squirted some of the clear liquid onto his fingers and warmed it up before rubbing it against her. He repeated the pattern several times, adding more and more until she was slick with the liquid. He slowly slid two fingers inside and began to pump them slowly.

She knew he was trying to be decent. He was trying to make sure she was ready, but the more he moved his fingers within her, the more her mind flashed back to Dmitri. "I'm good. Get up here," she said, not wanting to think about what had happened.

The fear began to wash over her again, and she almost stopped him completely. She held him back by the shoulders and thankfully he kept his mouth shut. Joe was an asshole, but he wasn't going to hurt her. Letting out a shaky breath, she nodded that she was okay.

"Position?" she asked, clearing her throat. At this point, her desperation had turned into complacency. She wanted to be finished with this. Nicky closed her eyes and waited for him to answer.

"This is good," he said, lowering himself on top of her. He reached between them and slowly entered her, dragging out the moment as long as he could.

Nicky waited, he'd bottomed out, but wasn't moving. It was already hurting, but nothing she couldn't handle. She opened her eyes and found him messing with his watch again. "Seriously?"

He grinned at her and nodded. He pressed a button, and the watch beeped. "Here we go," he announced as he began to move. He took it slow at first, experimenting with the way she felt around him. Listening to her, and paying attention to how she responded he found a rhythm that seemed to work.

Nicky opened her legs wider, trying to adjust into a position with the least amount of pain. It seemed like each whimper of flinch of pain attracted his attention and she realized he must have thought they were sounds of approval.

Staring up at a water stain on the ceiling, she forced herself to be quiet. She let her mind wander, hoping to escape the moment until he finished. Unfortunately, the only things she could focus on were Dmitri and her mother. She didn't want to think of Dmitri during sex.

XOXOXO

 _They'd been fighting all day, but that was nothing new. This time it was because Marka was pissed that Nicky had gotten into a heated discussion about LGBTQ rights with one of her friends. Nicky could be the voice of equality sometimes. While Marka didn't disagree with her daughter's stance, she also knew that there were times when you just kept your mouth shut for the sake of business._

 _Nicky had come home and gone straight to her room, she hated going to those stupid events with Marka. Even despite her disagreements with her mother, she tried to play her part as much as her sanity would allow, but sometimes she just couldn't do it._

 _Marka followed her into the bedroom, still amped up on the argument they'd gotten into on the way home. "I'm not finished talking to you," she said, arms crossed and breathing heavy._

 _"You never are," Nicky grumbled, pulling her duffel bag out from beneath her bed. Ignoring Marka, she began to move about the room packing up some of her things that she would need. She grabbed her phone charger from next to the bed and her laptop and cord from the desk, sliding the computer into its sleeve before packing it up._

 _Marka moved to block her path. "What's that supposed to mean?" she snapped. She raised an eyebrow and waited for Nicky to explain._

 _Running a hand through her hair, Nicky shoved it out of her face. "It means that you never let up. You don't know how to let shit go, and you always have to have the last word." She side-stepped Marka and went back to packing. She didn't have that many possessions that she cared about, growing up with everything at her fingertips had taught her that none of that mattered. It didn't replace people or emotions or experiences._

 _"Where do you think you're going?" Marka asked, picking through Nicky's bag._

 _Rolling her eyes, Nicky slammed her dresser drawer shut. "Does it really matter?" She shoved the clothes into the bag._

 _"Of course, it matters," Marka said stiffly. She sat down on the chair near Nicky's bookcase, perched on the edge as though she was afraid of germs. "I'm your mother. I worry." The emotion in her tone sounding 100% on point, but they both knew that wasn't the case. It was the residual performance of their night out as the perfect mother and daughter._

 _Laughter rang through the room, and Nicky sat down on her bed. "You? Worry? Marka, the only thing you worry about with me is whether or not I'm going to embarrass you." They sat in silence for a moment, before Nicky built up the courage to say what she wanted—needed—to say. "Why did you even have me if you didn't want me?"_

 _Marka looked down at her hands and began to fidget with the gold tennis bracelet on her wrist. "I..." she hesitated, saying more than her words could ever convey. "I wanted you." Her brow furrowed and nose flared as she tried to digest what she'd just said._

 _The words sounded thick and forced. Nicky knew better than to hope for more, but she was tired of wondering where things had gone wrong. "Really? I mean, let's be serious here. In my entire life, I don't think I've done one single thing you've approved of." She leaned forward and rested her arms on her thighs._

 _"Honestly Nicole," Marka scolded, rising to her feet. "Don't be so dramatic."_

 _For the briefest of moments, Nicky thought she was headed towards her, but she only began to pace the room._

 _"I'm being real here Marka. Tell me one thing that I've ever done that you've been truly proud of." Grabbing one of her throw pillows, she held it against her chest, hugging it for the comfort that her mother wouldn't provide. She waited in awkward silence. "Please," she asked, barely more than a whisper. "Just one thing."_

 _Marka turned to face her. "There are plenty of things. I'm not going to stand here and play games. If you want a list, you're not getting one. I don't need to prove anything to you." She glanced at the shelf of awards Nicky had earned and struggled to find one memory that she had been there for. One detail that she could remember about an accomplishment. The certificates, medals, and trophies all looked foreign to her._

 _"Oh please. You don't know; just admit it. There are plenty of things you should have been proud of—you just weren't there. You were never there." Nicky rose to her feet and began to pack up the remaining things she wanted to take with her. She had never been big on possessions, a pleasant side-effect of being Marka's daughter._

 _Marka picked up the framed picture of Nicky and her father. They had been playing catch in the park, Nicky's face smudged with a streak of clay and her hat turned backward. She wasn't looking at the camera but grinning up at her dad. It was obvious how close they were, but Marka wasn't there._

 _Marka was never there. She swallowed the lump in her throat and shook her head. She didn't feel guilty but knew that she should. It had been a busy time for her. New opportunities had arisen in her career and if she was ever going to accomplish her dreams it was time to buckle down. Everyone made sacrifices._

 _Shaking her head, Marka sat the picture back down. "I tried," she said with a heavy sigh. "Things were supposed to be different."_

 _"You mean I was supposed to be different. I was supposed to be the miniature version of you. The perfect daughter for your perfect world. Let's be honest here. I was supposed to be a check mark on some stupid five-year plan of yours—the next step in some formula you thought would make you happy and successful."_

 _"I am successful," Marka replied sharply. She balled her hands up in her lap and her lips pinched into a tight grimace. Her daughter always managed to push over and over until she would lose her temper. Nicole was impossible._

 _Clicking her tongue, Nicky smirked. "Yes, you are. Just not at being a mother." She roughly moved the bag away from her mother and zipped it up. Pulling her phone from her pocket, Nicky shot of a quick text to her best friend._

 _Coming over. Staying for a couple days. k?_

 _Placing her hand on Nicky's arm and jerking her closer, Marka glared at Nicky. "Grow up Nicole and stop acting like a brat. No one's life is perfect. I have done more for you than most kids get. You've never been grateful for that. You've had the best of everything. It's not like you ever went without." She shoved her daughter's arm away with a force that was more than just a little frustration._

 _"I went without you!" Nicky yelled. She shook her head in disbelief and ran both hands through her hair, gripping at her roots. "So, really, if you want to talk about me growing up—you should probably know that you made sure I did that a long time ago. What the hell else did you think I was doing when you weren't here? Surviving."_

 _Marka stood up and took a step towards her. "Obviously, it wasn't enough!" Her own voice raised to meet Nicky's. "It's like you've just given up. You've dropped out of all your lessons. Your grads are barely C's—which is probably because you've nearly stopped going to classes altogether. When I think of all the money that I've spent..."_

 _"It's always about the money," Nicky laughed bitterly. "Do you ever stop and realize that there's more to life than that?" She walked over to her bookshelf and grabbed three books—the most important being her copy of Alice in Wonderland. It had always been her favorite._

 _Shaking her head, Marka sighed heavily. Glaring at Nicky's buzzing phone there was no doubt who she was talking with. Marka could only imagine the sob story Nicky was telling him. "It's not just the money or your lack of effort. There's also that boy that you've been spending so much time with..."_

 _"Hey." Nicky turned on her. "You don't get to talk about him. You don't even know him." She put the books into her backpack and picked up her phone._

 _Sure thing sunshine. Tell the harpy to go to hell and get your ass over here._

 _Marka rolled her eyes. "I know enough. I know that you're willful and rebellious. I know what type of people he hangs around. Do you know that last year his brother was arrested for selling heroin to minors?"_

 _"And that instantly makes Joel a bad guy? God, you don't know shit. Seriously..." Nicky felt her cheek sting before she even realized Marka had moved. Holding her cheek, she bit down on her lip and tried to ignore the burning sensation._

 _Marka laughed. "Oh right, because I just abuse you so much. That's the problem right there. You've never had enough discipline." She turned her back to her daughter and mindlessly began to rearrange the pillows on her bed._

 _Dropping her hand from her face, Nicky saw the smear of blood on her fingers. She glanced to Marka's hand and spotted her ring. She realized what had happened. "Discipline? You call this discipline?" Holding up her hand for Marka to see, her tone was full of contempt and detachment._

 _Turning back around, Marka looked at her daughter's hand and took in a sharp breath. Why did Nicky have to be so difficult? These things would never happen if she would just stop talking back and respect her. "It's just a scratch," Marka said, brushing off the incident. "Accidents happen. If you weren't mouthing off, it wouldn't have happened in the first place."_

 _"I'm not a little kid 'accidents happen' doesn't work anymore. It hasn't worked since I was seven, and you let that creep of a boyfriend of yours beat me with his belt," Nicky said, her voice rising and sounding pinched off in her desperation for Marka to understand._

 _Crossing her arms, Marka glared at her. "He gave you a spanking, that was all. It wasn't even that bad."_

 _"I had welts on my ass for a week and a half," Nicky argued. "That's not normal." She hit the back of her palm against her other hand, accenting each word with an angry slap._

 _"Nicole, I highly doubt it was that bad. You were in jeans. Besides, I wasn't even in the room; you can't possibly blame me for that." Marka flipped her hair over her shoulder and snorted out a bitter laugh._

 _"You should have been! You're gonna let some guy you've been dating for a couple months punish your kid. Let me tell you this because apparently, you didn't hear me back then. It wasn't through my jeans, he had me pull those down because he thought I wouldn't learn anything unless it hurt."_

 _"He did no such thing!" Marka snapped. Her face flushed red, and she began to tremble in anger. She couldn't believe the depths her daughter would go to warp events to such extremes._

 _"Unreal," Nicky muttered. "You just said you weren't there. How would you even know? Because he told you? Or because you chose not to acknowledge it?" She zipped up her backpack and then unzipped it when she realized she hadn't finished._

 _Marka had her so worked up she couldn't even think. "Fine, you want to play denial? Fine. How about last year when you broke my arm because I wouldn't pose in the fucking Christmas picture with you and Paolo. That one an accident too?"_

 _"Of course, it was," her mother snapped. She was getting tired of this conversation, and even more tired of her daughter and her bullshit. "This is absurd. When did you become such a liar? I raised you better than that."_

 _Nicky clenched her fists, and she made up her mind. "You didn't raise me at all."_

 _She wasn't just going to stay with Joel for a few days. From the first time he suspected that Marka abused her, he had offered her a place to stay. Just friends. That's all they were, but he was there for her like no one had ever been before._

 _Nicky growled in frustration at her mother's selective blindness. "Ya know, if we're talking lies. Do you have any idea how much convincing I had to do to get the doctors to believe that the multiple old breaks that showed up on the x-rays were all accidents?"_

 _"If I'm that terrible, and these so called abusive moments even happened, why would you lie?" Marka asked, obviously flustered by the truth. Once more her attention focussed on her bracelet, clearly detaching from the reality of her daughter's words._

 _Nicky balled her hands into fists and dug her nails into her own flesh. "Because I still loved you!" she yelled, as though the volume of her words might actually make Marka understand. Nothing else she had ever tried had worked. Panting heavily, she tried to hold back the tears that her confession brought._

 _Marka laughed. It was a sharp, angry, harsh noise, that tore through whatever love Nicky might still have for her and shredded it. She wasn't just in denial about Marka hurting her, she was finished._

 _Up until that moment, Nicky had thought she'd never be able to stop loving Marka. You never really stopped loving someone—she'd always believed that. It was something that had stayed with her throughout all the abuse and pain._

 _Recently she'd decided that that was a lie. She told herself that she no longer loved her mother. It was an act of survival, separating herself from the painful longings and sadness of what wasn't. She detached from the feelings she had and twisted them into something that gave her strength._

 _It wasn't until Marka laughed in her face that she realized she had been wrong. That it wouldn't matter to Marka whether she loved her or hated her. Nicky thought that confronting Marka with her feelings would make things clear. Maybe her feelings would mean something to her—maybe Marka would realize that Nicky meant something. She needed Marka to care one way or another, but that wasn't happening._

 _Not loving your mother seemed like an impossibility, especially when you're lying to yourself. Nicky had never known her "mother" though. Outside of the image she had perfectly polished for the public eye, she barely knew Marka. Everything she had been longing for and trying to love didn't exist. She was chasing dreams of a life that might have been if they were different people—if she were the perfect daughter or if Marka was someone with a heart._

 _It was the echoing laughter that caused that need to snap. Something inside of her broke, and she realized that she didn't love Marka. She never had. The longing for her mother was a lie. She loved the person that she thought Marka could be. People didn't change, though. Not like that anyway. How could she love someone, a mother, who didn't even exist?_

 _"Well don't do me any favors. The way you act..." Marka sighed dramatically. She shook her head and looked down at her hands. Looking up she stared Nicky directly in the eyes and held firm. "You don't even know what love means."_

 _Nicky shrugged her shoulders and her brow furrowed. Without fail, no matter how false it was, Marka made her feel like she was wrong. Nicky was less. She was imperfect. She was broken. She dropped her head, a habitual gesture to hide her tears. It took her a moment to realize there weren't any coming. "Well," she said, lifting her head, "I guess that's something we have in common."_

 _"Of course," the older woman said, raising her hands up in defeat. "Blame me." She shook her head. "It's not anything that I've done Nicole."_

 _"We've established that," Nicky said sarcastically. "Nothing about me is anything you've done except the fact that I'm alive." She pulled her backpack onto her shoulders and picked up the duffel bag. "Well, this life sucks. I don't want a part of it anymore."_

 _"That's life, Nicole. You can't just run every time things get hard; get used to it. Everything isn't all puppy dogs and rainbows. Now put your stuff up. You're not going anywhere tonight." Marka crossed her arms and waited._

 _"You know what? You're right," Nicky said, heading out the bedroom door. "That is life—and I'm done trying to live the one you want me to. I'm outta here." Before Marka could react, she was out the bedroom door and jogging down the stairs._

 _Marka rushed after her, not willing to lose this fight. Nicky just needed to do what she was told. It was time that she started taking responsibility for her own mistakes. "I said you're not going anywhere," she yelled with a razor sharp edge to her tone. taking the stairs at a slightly slower pace. "You can't just leave Nicole. You're fifteen," she said with a smug grin full of gloating power._

 _Reaching the main floor, Nicky spun on her heels to look up at her mother. The challenge she was daring her with was obvious, but Nicky was done playing her mother's games. "Watch me," she said, voice cold and even. "I'm not going to keep letting you control me. There's something wrong here Marka, and it's not going to ever get any better."_

 _Standing on the step above her, her mother's eyes narrowed into a cold hard stare._

 _Nicky shook her head and decided to take one final jab as a goodbye gift to herself. "You failed."_

 _Marka drew back to smack her again, but this time Nicky was ready. She caught Marka's wrist at the last minute. "This," she said pointing to her cheek, "was the last time you got to put a fucking hand on me. It will not happen again."_

 _Letting go of her hand, Nicky turned towards the door and began to walk away._

 _"I'll call the police," Marka said, words rushing from her lips. "I will. I'll call the police and report you as a runaway."_

 _Dropping her forehead against the front door, Nicky shook her head. This was ridiculous. It was clearly the best choice for both of them. "Look, I don't want things to get messy," she said, not looking up. "Leave me alone, and we're fine, but if you come after me or call the cops, I will tell them exactly what you've done over the years."_

 _"No one will believe you," Marka said defensively, with an air of superiority she truly believed she had. She crossed her arms, equal parts annoyance at her daughter and an attempt to hide the worry Nicky's words ignited._

 _Looking over her shoulder, Nicky smiled in resolution. "Do you really want to take that chance?" The younger woman watched her mother holding onto something that she didn't even want. "Goodbye Marka." She unlocked the bolt and opened the door._

 _"If you walk out that door, Nicole, don't even think about coming back," Marka said, walking towards her._

 _Nicky stepped outside and inhaled a deep breath—freedom. "Don't worry Marka, that's never going to happen." With confident energy, she kept walking, feeling a weight lift with each step she put behind her._

XOXOXO

"Oh, God yes," Joe said. His hips jerked against her several times before he fell heavily on top of her. "So good," he groaned into her ear.

Nicky rolled her eyes and bumped at his shoulders, signaling for him to get the hell off of her. She was sore and the thoughts of her mother had her feeling smothered under their weight.

Joe bounced up on his hands and looked down at her. Instead of moving away, he moved further down the bed and settled between her legs. His hands moved up to her chest, and he started to grope at the fleshy globes with all the enthusiasm of a fourteen-year-old boy.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Nicky asked dumbfounded. She raised up on her elbows and watched him paw at her chest.

He looked up at her and grinned. "Getting my money's worth," Joe said, tapping the face of his watch. "I still have five minutes. Now hush, just enjoy it."

"That's not something to brag about." Rolling her eyes, Nicky dropped back down to the pillow. "You suck at this by the way. I feel like I'm being mauled by a monkey. I've had better boob play at the doctor's office."

"No talking," he grumbled.

She waited for about twenty seconds before she spoke again. "You're supposed to be massaging them, not trying to pump something up." She curled a lip in disgust as he ignored her advice. "Dude," she snapped.

"Okay fine," Joe said. "What should I be doing?"

"Well," Nicky said, moving back up onto her elbows. "First of all, instead of just grabbing at them," she paused mid-sentence. Shaking her head, Nicky growled. "No Absolutely not. I am not helping you figure this shit out. Try the internet if you want advice." Reaching around the back of his head, she grabbed a handful of hair and pulled him off of her. "Man, get out of here," she said, right as his watch went off.

Joe sighed, as he turned his watch off. "Guess that's time anyways." After he was dressed, he turned back towards her and smirked. "It's been a pleasure doing business with you. Next time you're in a pinch let me know."

"Not likely," she said, wrapping the sheet around her and sitting up. She needed a shower; getting dressed was pointless. "Get out of here."

Smiling, Joe bowed his head. He turned towards the door but stopped. "Oh." He pulled an envelope out of his pocket. "She left this for you," he explained, tossing it towards her. In a moment, he was gone.

Nicky stared at the paper laying at the end of the bed. She was frozen, unable to move. The evening began to replay in her mind, and she drew her knees up. Biting her lip, she tried to fight off the tears. She was scared and hurt. Dmitri had almost raped her, and she wasn't equipped to deal with that.

Logically, she knew that there was always a risk of things going wrong with her job, but the longer she worked with no incidents, the more confident she became. She tried to be careful in who she slept with—making educated guesses about how much her safety was in danger. Working with Ganya's crowd had helped. He kept his men in line, and it was steady business.

Dmitri should have been harmless. He wasn't hard like many of the men she'd gone out of her way to avoid. He hadn't been in the midst of violence or shady dealings. He was just an average guy with a wife and kids. This shouldn't have been the time things went wrong. Nicky hadn't seen this coming, and that terrified her more than anything. She wasn't safe, she didn't have anyone to turn to, and she sure as fuck wasn't capable of emotionally handling this.

Her eyes drifted towards the letter and shook her head no. It wasn't an option. Marka would not control her again. Her hand came up to her neck, and she winced at the touch to her tender flesh. Her hands trembled as she reached for the letter. Feeling the weight of it, she knew there must be several pages inside. Nicky looked at her name scribbled in familiar script and traced the letters with her finger.

Snapping out of her thoughts, Nicky opened the bedside table and quickly put the letter inside. She slammed the drawer shut and scooted to the far end of the bed. The young woman stared at the drawer as a child would, watching their closet, terrified of what lay beyond.

Finally, Nicky allowed herself to fall apart. She was alone, and there was no one who could save her. Drawing herself into a small ball, her shoulders shook with each sob. This wasn't the life she was supposed to have. It couldn't be.

XOXOXO

Huge thanks to Jo for her help with this story and all the support she offers regularly! She's a good one. I'm pretty sure everyone is already in love with her story Trust Fail, but if for whatever reason you haven't checked it out yet do it! It is a true labor of love.

Also, thanks to Minerva for all the kind words and encouragement she's offered.

Thank you all for the reviews and feedback so far. It means so much! I can't put into words how grateful I am that everyone has been so interested and supportive of this project.

XOXOXO

Just a quick reminder:

Feedback is always welcome, especially on longer stories. It helps us out tremendously when we know what you're questions and thoughts are on the things we write. We can't always fill every request into the main plot if it conflicts with something already in the works, but we will try and work in as much of your ideas, concerns, questions etc. as we can.

As always, thanks for reading!


	5. Chapter 5: July, 23 - Tuesday

A/N: Welcome to Day 2. That's right.. 5 chapters in and it's only been one day. Congratulations for surviving. Sorry for the delay in this chapter! It's extremely long and just life has gotten the best of A and I. Also, like... muse was more interested in other things.

We both are loving the flood of RN things lately, so just want to say thank you for that! We love all of you are who are posting and updating, you give us an excuse to avoid adult responsibilities for a few moments.

 _I haven't been reviewing the past few days because I've been *finally* moving into newly renovated bedroom and it's wonderful. I've read all the things and love them all and promise to leave all the extra long reviews in just a few more days. I'm sorry. I love you all. Thanks for the patience! #Joisthebetterhalf ~ A_

Okay enough rambling. Enjoy!

 _Also there may or may not be a fern on A's window sill now named Norma. It's quiet, likes to sit in the sun, and contemplate life and stupid people ~ Jo_

XOXOXO

Red had gotten the boys ready and rushed them off to school early that morning. They hadn't asked about their father, thankfully, and she had no plans to tell them yet. It wasn't too unusual for him to be gone on some errands in the morning. She was going to have to tell them something soon, but it wasn't the right time. Buying herself time would be tricky, but it was her best option.

Her mind had been reeling all night, and she hadn't gotten any sleep. Question after question swirled in her mind, and she hadn't had answers to any of them. How had this happened? How had that man been the same person she'd married, lived with, had children with? And, despite herself, she wondered where the young woman had gone and if she were okay? It didn't concern her, and she shouldn't be worried about it, but she couldn't seem to help it.

The biggest question, however, was what happened next? Obviously, she couldn't stay with him. This was not something to be fixed. Red wouldn't have taken Dmitri back if he had cheated on her—but this, what he had done, she couldn't even fathom. She didn't want to be anywhere near him. She didn't want the boys around him either. That was going to be a problem though. He was still their father no matter how terrible of a husband he was—how terrible of a man.

Once more the girl's pained eyes clouded her mind. She had looked so haunted and lost. She should be angry and probably hate her. If she hadn't been here. If they hadn't made the deal in the first place... _No_. Red shook her head trying to rid herself of those thoughts. It wasn't on her. Despite her profession, the young woman was a victim of her husband's violence. He had made the choice to engage her services, and he was the one who didn't see "no" as something to be respected. He played God with her safety—her value as a person—and Red hated him for that.

Their marriage had been broken for some time now. This had just been the final straw. In a way, Red was grateful for this. What if she hadn't gone downstairs? Would he have continued this new road of sexual deviance? No, she held no malice towards the younger woman. It was better to know now. It was better that things were over.

Heading downstairs, Red tried to prepare herself for the day ahead. Staying busy would be best. Trying to come up with a list of things to do, her mind wandered towards the shop and all the responsibilities.

She would be doing it alone today. The last time she had worked alone was the previous year when Dmitri had the flu. She had managed. It had been difficult, but she had done it. They weren't quite as busy as they were now, but people would just have to be a little more patient and deal with it. She couldn't do everything all at the same time.

Red walked behind the counter and unlocked the safe. She pulled out the till and placed it inside the drawer at the cash register. Even that felt exhausting. Leaning forward against the counter, she rested on her arms and looked around at the shop. Swallowing hard, she let her eyes finally cross the room to the freezer.

Images of Dmitri trying to force that girl flashed in her mind, and she looked down at the counter. This had happened. It was real, and she needed to face it. She looked to the freezer once more and this time all she saw was the freezer door—the freezer and a small army green lump.

Quickly moving out from behind the counter, Red walked over to it. As she approached she realized it was a bag. It must have belonged to the young woman, whatever her real name was. She leaned over but hesitated. There was a sharp knock on the front glass and she jumped as the noise startled her. Instantly she felt awash with guilt, like she'd been doing something she shouldn't.

Hand to her chest, Red looked at the door and saw Mrs. Keller. The older woman pointed at her watch. She'd been coming by in the morning regularly for coffee the past three years. She was the first customer every day and tipped like shit, but she was constant.

Red picked up the bag without hesitation and tucked it under her arm. Walking to the front of the store she unlocked the door and flipped the sign in on it to read "open". "Good morning Mrs. Keller. How are you today?"

"I'd be better if you were running things on time. I have places to be you know," the grey-haired woman said pushing past Red and striding towards the counter. Impatiently she slammed her bag on the counter and began counting out her payment in nickels.

Rolling her eyes, Red followed her. "It's not ready yet," she explained. "If you want coffee you're going to have to wait." She was in no mood for pleasantries. Losing $5—including the tip—for a lousy cup of coffee was hardly a threat to her business. Besides, Mrs. Keller would be back tomorrow; she was sure of that.

Tucking the bag beneath the counter, Red took the coffee pot to the back and filled it with water. Within a few minutes, she'd made the coffee and sent the old woman on her way. It was still early for customers and Red cursed herself for keeping things in such order. Her business was a well-oiled machine, and she had very little to do.

She readied the rest of the food she would need to serve the breakfast crowd and help those who came in for their dry goods. By 10:30 Ganya showed up with a couple of his lackey's. She'd made quick work of helping them, knowing what they wanted. Leaving a pot of coffee with them, she knew they would be settled for a while. Pulling out her books, she started to put together a sales order, but her mind really wasn't on it.

"Galina," a gentle male voice said, drawing her attention from the task.

Looking up, Red found Ganya standing in front of her. There was such a tenderness to his voice that she hadn't even recognized it. Her brow furrowed in discomfort at the thought. People who were nice to you generally wanted something. "What can I do for you? You need more coffee? Want some Kvas?" she asked gruffly.

He shook his head and reached for her hand. He had always liked the young Russian. She was someone who he would have gone after if his business dealings hadn't controlled his marriage in the same way they shaped every aspect of his life. He enjoyed the power too much to throw it all away on a whim of silly romantics.

Still he appreciated her and her fiery nature. She was too good for Dmitri. He had been a lucky man to have her and now he had fucked that up. Ganya wasn't sure about all the details, but he knew that things had gone down the previous evening.

Without thinking about her actions, Red snatched her hand back and ran it through her long hair. He was too familiar and the mob boss was the last person she wanted to get close to. She was no fool and had often caught him looking at her with a faraway gaze. While flattering, it was not a path she would ever venture upon. He was too dangerous and she had been a loyal wife—unhappy, but loyal.

"I heard that you made Dmitri leave?" he asked tentatively, wanting her to confirm the rumors. As far as he could make out, Red had caught Dmitri with his girl. Nicky wasn't exclusively his, but this had been a bad judgment call and he would need to talk to her. She was young though, and possibly naive about the consequences of her actions. It wasn't bad enough to anger him, but it needed to be changed in the future.

Shaking her head, Red couldn't help but laugh. "Good news travels fast, huh?" she asked, voice dark and annoyed. How the fuck did these people always know so much. She grabbed a rag from the pocket in her apron and a bottle of disinfectant from beneath the counter and began to angrily scrub away at the already pristine surface.

Ganya cocked his head and studied her for a moment. "Good news? Is it?" he covered her hand with his once more, merely stopping her movements before drawing it back. He was concerned and this was important to him.

Eyes widening, Red shook her head. "Well, under the circumstances, it isn't bad," she said, irritation filling her voice. She needed him to go away. She could barely get a handle on it herself; she certainly wasn't ready to talk about it with anyone else.

Ganya nodded. "If you need help with anything... if _you_ need anything..."

Red straightened and crossed her arms. Raising an eyebrow, she dared him to go further. "I was married. I wasn't helpless. I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself and my boys," she snapped.

"Of course," Ganya apologized, holding up his hands in retreat. "My apologies. My help is here if you need it, but I know you'll be fine." He turned and began to walk back to his table.

Taking care of her boys. That was her biggest priority. "Ganya," Red called after him. When he approached, she nodded. "There is something you can do."

Ganya's eyes lit up. "Anything," he promised.

She looked around, afraid of who might be listening. It was silly to think anyone would even care about her pathetic life, but growing up in Russia had taught her to be careful about private matters. You never knew who was listening or who would stab you in the back to get ahead. "I'm going to tell the boys that you sent him away for a week. I need some time to work out what's going to happen before I talk to them," she explained.

"Of course," he agreed quickly. "If there's anything else you let me know?"

Red nodded. She watched him walk away and return to his table. She looked back down at the list she had been working on before his interruption and realized that she'd almost ordered 800 cans of beets. Crumpling up the piece of paper, she snapped the book shut and tucked it under the counter near the register. Inventory would have to wait.

Her hand brushed against the young woman's bag, and she bit her lip in anticipation. What would she find inside? She clutched her hands tighter against the fabric, somehow feeling that it was a lifeline of sorts. It was a ridiculous notion, but she already felt tethered to that girl. Shaking her head, she stood back up, hands empty.

Red glanced around the shop briefly to make sure she could steal a few moments away for herself and headed back to the kitchen. She needed a break from the watching eyes of the customers. It felt like there was a giant sign floating above her head announcing the news. She was nearly to her sanctuary when an older man called out to her, asking if she could help him with something on the top shelf. It was then that Red realized that she wouldn't be able to hide away in her kitchen. Dmitri wasn't there to deal with the customers. She was alone.

Thinking about the lunch crowd she knew that she couldn't keep the shop running smoothly on her own. Eventually, she was going to need help. It wouldn't be fair to expect the boys to pick up the slack and they would lose too much business if everyone had to wait for her to deal with them one by one during the lunch rush. For now, she could manage, but as summer came closer things would only get busier.

"Here you go," she said, handing over the small bag of rice. She asked if there was anything else he needed help with, but there wasn't. Heading back behind the register she looked around the shop and imagined all the plans she'd had for it. Were they still possible? Could she really do this without Dmitri? She had told Ganya that she knew how to take care of herself—which was true—but she suddenly wondered if she could realize her own plans without the help of a partner.

Flashes of Dmitri pinning that girl to the wall ran through her mind and she had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from crying. Turning her back to the counter, she hovered at the entrance to the kitchen and pretended to be busy. Her heart ached at the thought of all that had transpired—at all she had lost. She had loved him once. Maybe it had been a love of convenience, of some sort of obligation to her brother. He swore she would one day learn to love Dmitri, but had she truly?

Maybe it hadn't been the type of love that little girls dreamed of, but it was enough. It was dull, but comfortable. It reminded her of the stories about her grandparents. Her mother had refused to marry the man picked for her, and Red thought she would always follow in her footsteps, but with her parents gone and her brother sick, she couldn't find it in herself to fight him on the matter. Her marriage had become something out of habit. She tried to love him because it was the most sensible thing to do.

Maybe over the years, they had hit a plateau. It was no longer enough. Perhaps her love for him, the mutual respect they had for one another had cooled off to merely tolerating him—liking him for the sake of their boys. She had always seen them as more of a team than husband and wife. Even without the previous evening's events, they were finished. No, she didn't love him. Perhaps she never had.

XOXOXO

Before she got in the shower, Nicky plugged her phone in. She had meant to do it the previous evening, but after crying so hard she had just laid down and gone to sleep. Everything had been so exhausting. She felt a stab of pain shoot through her hand and glared down at her busted knuckles and bruised and swollen fingers. She hadn't cleaned her wound out the night before either.

Thinking about what crud might be slowly healing within the gashes left her anxious to get it all cleaned. She went into the bathroom and looked around at the few options she had. Soap and water would have to do. Nicky grabbed the cleanest looking washcloth and moved to the sink. Tenderly she blotted away at her hand, but everything had already dried and started to heal. Shaking her head, she bit her lip. This was going to hurt.

Nicky had reopened the damage in an attempt to get everything flushed out. It hurt like hell, but once again the pain was something to focus on. Everything felt slightly better in the daylight—everything except her headache. Sleep had helped scare away the darker thoughts too. She felt a new strength and resolve. She would not turn to Marka. There was no way she would go back without a fight.

Standing under the spray of hot water, Nicky was thankful that this room had better water pressure than her other one. It almost made up for the stifling heat and broken window unit. She would call Larry, go to the shop to get her money, and maybe pick up one of Ganya's men.

She'd see where things went from there. Nicky allowed herself to stay in the shower—water pounding against her shoulders and neck—until all the hot water was gone. She was sore all over, most likely from the struggle she'd put up. It was one more reminder that she was a fighter. Her day was full, but having these few moments to herself seemed to ease her anxiety and allowed her the chance to build herself back up.

Clean and feeling slightly better—or at least a little distanced from her problems—Nicky sat on her bed and turned her phone on. The device lit up and, thankfully, loaded up perfectly. She was careful not to catch her skin on any of the slivers of glass as she scrolled through her contacts and found Larry's number. She called him and put the phone on speaker.

As the line rang, Nicky dropped her towel to the floor and began to get dressed. The ringing eventually turned into his voicemail. Of course, it did. She closed the call without leaving a message. It was supposed to be a better day than the one she'd had the night before. Nicky headed for the bathroom to do her hair when her phone started to go off.

"Hello?" she answered.

The line was quiet for a moment, but then the caller took a deep breath and began to speak. "Natalya?" he asked nervously. "Right?"

She rolled her eyes. "Yes Larry, it's me."

"Oh. Wow. I didn't think you were going to call me back," he said. His words began to pick up the pace the longer they stayed on the phone.

"It's been a busy few days, but it seems that I have some time this afternoon available. You still interested?" she asked, slipping into a more confident persona. She was good with people, especially when it came to putting them at ease.

"Absolutely!" Larry replied. "How do we uh… go about this?"

"I've got a room at Caputouto's. We can meet there," she said, rolling her eyes at Joe's stupid play on his name. She was breaking her rules _again_ , but she'd already slept with Joe in there, and this was an emergency. "I'm free until 1:30, so if you can make it before then."

"I can meet you whenever you're ready," Larry rushed to answer. "I'm a writer, so my schedule's pretty flexible, to be honest. Um, how much should I bring?"

Nicky nodded along, rolling her eyes. They agreed upon a price—much lower than she was used to, but more than she'd expected from him—and she wrapped the call up. "Alright, give me about an hour. Room 13C."

Hanging up the phone, Nicky tossed it on the bed and finished getting ready. If she hurried she'd have time to grab some coffee from Joe's office. It was crap, but better than what he put out in the lobby.

XOXOXO

As Larry ground his pelvis against her, Nicky had to admit that he wasn't as terrible as she had expected. He was still pretty bad, and his inexperience showed, but there was potential. If nothing else he had a massive amount of determination. She could tell he was struggling to hold back, trying to make her finish before he did. It was a losing battle though, she really wasn't into it. Rolling her eyes as he groaned in her ear, Nicky went into full fake orgasm mode.

She'd perfected her technique. She didn't always use it, but with the right sort of guy finishing often meant ending up with a little extra cash on the side. Feeling like they had achieved something unlikely, left them feeling generous and confident. With other guys, it just made them cocky and even bigger assholes—she didn't bother with them. It hadn't taken her long to learn to follow her instincts.

As she began her performance Larry grabbed her hand and entwined their fingers. She hissed out obscenities in pain and pulled her hand away. He slowed down, planning on stopping, but she urged him to finish. There was no way she was starting over, and she needed his money. After making sure she was positive that she wanted to continue Larry started fucking her again. It took a few minutes to get back into it, but soon he was finishing and collapsing on top of her.

"Oh, God that was amazing," Larry groaned rolling off her and dropping his arm across his forehead. He breathed heavily, chest rising and falling with each breath, before her silence got to him. "What about you?" he asked, popping onto his side and looking down at her excitedly.

Nicky half smiled at him and shook her head in amusement. "Yeah, it was great," she lied. She brought her hand up and held it in front of her face, flexing her fingers. She winced in pain. "Damn," she cursed, still annoyed at herself for her own brilliance. Yeah, the pain had been a great distraction, but punching a fucking brick wall? A true stroke of genius.

"What happened?" Larry asked, gently taking her wrist in his grasp and bringing it closer to look at.

His touch was too gentle, but she knew it was more about caution than affection. She allowed it. "Got pissed off. Punched the wall," Nicky said, chuckling. "Not the smartest move, but I felt better after."

She felt Larry tracing lines on her hand gently. He brought it closer to his face, and Nicky's lip curled in disgust as she briefly thought he was going to kiss it. Thankfully he didn't. _Newts!_ she thought with a chuckle and a sad smile. It was always the newbies that were disasters. She got lost in the sound of the voice echoing through her mind and only tuned back in when Larry's voice rose in seriousness and volume.

"You need to have this looked," he said, looking over at her with raised eyebrows. "Right here," he said, tracing his finger gently along her pinkie, "looks like it's probably broken. And these two next to it, they don't look much better."

Nicky chuckled and pulled her hand away. "What are you a doctor? Should I be charging you more?" She smirked at him and sat up, looking for her shirt. "Coming Dr. Larry?" she teased, nodding for him to get up. "Play time's over."

Larry smiled at her and opened his arms. "I thought we had a thing going here?" He crawled across the bed towards her and grabbed onto her hips "I'll be the doctor and you can be my very sex-"

His words were cut off by her hand on his face pushing him away as she laughed. "Not today," she chided gently. She grabbed her underwear and shimmed them up her hips. Glancing over at him to see if he was moving, she caught the affectionate gaze he was directing towards her. Thank God it wasn't the look of puppy love.

Larry smiled as Nicky's gaze met his. She was cute. He didn't understand how she'd ended up doing this, but she didn't seem to be hating life too much. He could see himself meeting her in the real world and asking her out. He didn't think he'd have a shot with her, but he'd ask. Standing up and stretching, he reached for his own clothes and got dressed.

Nicky pulled on her shirt and looked over at him. He was garments behind "Hurry up and I'll walk you out," she said, as she slipped into her shoes and tied them up. Grabbing her smokes and sunglasses she motioned for him to hurry the hell up.

"I meant it about the doctor," Larry said, as they exited the room. "I don't know what your situation here is, but, uh, if you don't want to go to the hospital, I could take you to my dad." he offered.

"Son of a doctor," Nicky said, nodding in understanding. "Thanks, kid, but it'll be fine." She lit up a cigarette and took a hefty drag. Closing her eyes, she tilted her head back slightly and puffed out a slow steady stream of smoke.

Larry laughed. "Kid? There's no way you're older than me."

"Don't believe everything you see," she said with a wink. She examined her hand once again and her brow furrowed. Maybe it wouldn't be such a bad idea to have someone look at it.

"Let me take you," Larry said, pleading with puppy dog eyes and a pouted-out lip. He pulled out his keys and shook them encouragingly. "No charge, just let him look at it."

Nicky shook her head and sighed. "What the hell," she said, lips balancing her cigarette between them. "Come on then, let's go see Dr. Larry Sr."

"Howard," Larry corrected.

"What?"

"My dad," he explained, "his name is Howard."

Nicky dropped her head and began to laugh. "Keep walking, man," she said, shoving him forward playfully.

XOXOXO

"Hey dad," Larry said, waving happily as his father opened the door.

Howard Bloom squinted his eyes, wondering what it was his son wanted and why he was knocking. He moved his gaze to the young woman with his son and studied her once over. Frowning he moved to the side. "I'm Howard," he explained, offering a hand in greeting.

"Oh, uh, sorry. Dad this is Natalya. Natalya, this is-"

"Nicky," she said, shaking her head. "Just call me Nicky. I'd uh shake, but," she said holding up her hand so that he could see why she wasn't returning the gesture.

"I see," Howard said, starting to understand the impromptu visit. "Come on, take her to the table Larry, I'll get my stuff." He led them inside and walked away in the opposite direction from where Larry was leading Nicky. "Amy, have you seen my glasses?"

"Aren't they on your face?" a loud nasally female voice responded.

Howard's voice was muffled from the distance of the other room as he snapped at his wife. "Would I be asking you if they were? Larry get me my kit out of the bathroom."

"How should I know?" the woman said, meeting them in the dining room. "Larry honey!" she greeted, placing a sloppy kiss on his cheek. "Who's your friend?"

Entering the room, glasses adorning his face, Howard grunted in response. "Her name is Nicky—and she's not his friend."

"Oh, a girlfriend," Amy said, in eager excitement. She worried about Larry. He was young and handsome. He should be out dating, not cooped up in his office all day. How would he ever meet anyone if he waited until he was past his prime?

"Mom we're not-" Larry said, only to be cut off.

Nicky shook her head, regretting going there in the first place. "Noooo," she said, emphasizing the word for effect. Somehow the idea of dating Larry felt weirder than sleeping with him.

Howard, sat down shaking his head. "She's his hooker." He showed no reaction to the two slack-jawed looks he was getting or the amused laughing from the young woman. The laughter surprised him though, and he found himself liking her just a little bit more.

"Howard! How can you say such things?" Larry's mother asked. "She doesn't look anything like a hooker. Now your aunt Ethel's daughter? She looks like a hooker," she said to Larry.

Walking away from them, he walked out of the room to get his kit himself. His voice bellowed in from the other room as he left. "She's too attractive to be with Larry. He doesn't have any friends. She's either his hooker or she saved his life and he's indebted to her for the rest of his."

Amy shook her head and looked at Nicky. "I'm sorry, he's not normally like this," she apologized on her husband's behalf, pushing his shoulder in frustration as he passed.

"He lives in our backyard and doesn't have a real job. There aren't a lot of possibilities going on here," Larry's father said, turning to face his wife and taking his glasses off.

Looking to Larry with an amused look on her face, Nicky leaned towards him. "You live in the backyard?" she questioned. She felt like she'd just fucked a boy scout. This was unbelievable. "What you camped out in a treehouse back there?"

"It's a mother-in-law suite," he explained quickly. "God, dad, you make it sound like I live in a tent or somethi-"

"Howard," Amy said, hitting the back of her hand against his arm. "You're embarrassing him."

The man rolled his eyes and opened up the first aid kit. "I'm embarrassing him?" he asked laughing. He picked through the contents of the box, setting up a line of supplies that he thought he'd need. "In front of his hooker? I'm embarrassing _him_?" he continued, laughing even more.

"She's not a hook-" Larry said, wanting to defend her. She was a hooker, but she wasn't anything like what you thought of when you heard that word. He really liked her and wished his dad wasn't making it sound like she was just some sex worker that he'd picked up on the side of the highway.

Nicky put her hand on Larry's arm stopping him. "It's okay," she assured, smiling fondly at him. "Actually Mrs. Bloom, I am a hooker." She shot the woman a dazzling smile and widened her eyes into a look that she knew could tug on heartstrings. _Shoulda been an actress_ , she thought. She didn't like crowds though or rules. Maybe the silver screen wasn't quite for her.

"Natalya... Nicky..." Larry stuttered, staring at her with big bugged-out eyes.

Nicky just shrugged and smirked. "What?" she asked, lips twitching into a lopsided grin. "He already knows. It's not like you can un-convince him. He seems like a pretty smart guy."

"Alright," Howard said, gently clapping his hands together. "Now that that's settled, let's see what's going on here." He gestured for Nicky's hand. "I don't know what the hell you expect me to do without an x-ray, but I'll see what I can do," he said, examining her hand.

"Thanks," Nicky said, a small blush rising to her cheeks. This was why she didn't ask for help. It was awkward and forced and she never had the answers or reasons that people wanted. "I told Larry it was fine, but he insisted."

"I assume you have your reasons for not going to the hospital?" Howard asked, eyeing her over the rims of his glasses.

Nicky just nodded and looked away from him. "I do," she answered, voice strong and firm. She may not be feeling the most confident, but she couldn't stand the thought of him seeing her as some sort of victim. That wasn't who she was.

She hadn't been a victim since she'd made the choice to leave Marka's, at least not until Dmitri's rage. Nicky knew that by definition she had been a victim of sexual assault, but she was refusing the label. The previous evening didn't count, not in her mind. It couldn't.

Her denial was a survival mechanism, she was well aware of that, but it was something she was holding onto and didn't plan on giving up anytime soon. She was stronger than Dmitri. Maybe not in physical strength, but he had not broken her.

"Oh, that looks nasty," Amy said, leaning over her husband's shoulder. "What happened?"

"She was petting a goat," Howard deadpanned. "She punched something and broke it. What does it look like?"

"Ooh," that must have hurt, Amy said with a wince. She shook her head and smiled sympathetically. You know, Howard used to box in high school, but he already knew he wanted to be a doctor. I'd never seen anyone take such meticulous care of their hands.

Howard shook his head in frustration. "Why don't you get Larry something to eat, huh? Larry, go with your mother."

"Dad, I'm not even hungry," Larry complained.

"No, your father's right. You're too skinny. I don't know why you just don't come here for dinner. It's not like we're a million miles away," she said, leading Larry into the kitchen. "What do you feel like?"

Howard watched as they left the room before he turned back to Nicky's hand. "So, care to tell me what really happened?" He ripped open an antiseptic swab and began to carefully dab at the torn flesh.

Looking directly at him, Nicky raised her eyebrows in seriousness. "I _really_ punched a wall." She didn't know why he didn't believe her or care, but the question of her truthfulness annoyed her. He didn't know her and there was no reason why he should second-guess what she told him. Maybe she was being too defensive, but she was full of emotions that she didn't know what to do with.

Howard ignored her hiss of pain as the liquid hit her flesh. "You should have done this when it happened, not a day later." She'd cleaned it out pretty good, but he could see some bits of grit in the flesh that she hadn't gotten.

"What about those?" he asked pointing to the bruises on her neck and collarbone. "Wall fight back?" He frowned down at her hand when he realized there was still debris in it.

Nicky circled her neck tenderly. She'd forgotten about those. "Perks of the job," she said, laughing darkly. "Nothing I couldn't handle."

"This is going to hurt," he said, picking up a pair of tweezers. He began to remove the remaining rubble, in a patient practiced manner. "I don't have anything to numb it with," he added, trying not to pinch her flesh.

Nicky nodded. "I'm good," she said, watching what he was doing. It hurt, but pain was becoming something that she embraced rather than ran from. It was almost like a drug, except it cleared her mind instead of fogging it up. There was something clean and crisp about it that seemed to calm her. It was almost refreshing.

"So, Nicky, my son hires you, sees that you're all," he hesitated, waving a hand towards her bruises, "worked over, and he sleeps with you anyways?" Putting the tweezers down, he leaned forward and examined the wound.

"He asked first—almost backed out completely, but I convinced him I was fine," she explained. "Because I _am_ fine." Howard seemed to be satisfied with his work so far. She watched as he lay the tweezers back down and bit her lip, predicting what the next step of this exam might be.

Nodding at her words, he seemed un-phased by her response. He gingerly took her hand in his, and, as gently as he could, began to move her fingers observing their range of motion. "What about Plan B? The hospital can give you medicine for STDS. There are some clinics downtown that are more likely to forget who you are that I can recommend. Do you need to be tested? Does my _son_ need to be tested?"

"It didn't get that far," Nicky promised. "The rest of the time I'm careful and clean. I'm not an idiot," she said, starting to get defensive. It wasn't often that people's judgments got to her, but this man had a way of making her feel like a rebellious teen and not an adult capable of making decisions. _You are a rebellious teen,_ a voice in the back of her head reminded her.

"Listen," Howard said, putting her hand on the table and taking off his glasses. "It's not my job to tell you what to do with your life, but you're in a very dangerous profession young lady. You're pretty and you're putting yourself out there with the kind of men who are willing to buy you. I'm quite certain that most of them would be willing to do a lot more than just that if things didn't go their way. You realize that, right? By choosing to do this, you're increasing the chances of something happening by innumerable odds. Next time it might not just be bruises."

Rolling her eyes, Nicky nodded. "I know," she explained. She was not going to let this man slut-shame her into a cowering child. He didn't even know what had happened and he was already passing judgment. Maybe it was just her job alone that he had issues with and he didn't realize what he was really saying, but either way, she wasn't going to allow him to make her feel like less. Just because she slept with men for money did not mean that it was okay for them to do what Dmitri had. Fooling around with a married man was on her, but the attack was 100% on him.

Staring at her for a moment longer, Howard moved on. "Not much I can do for your fingers from here—pinkies broken and the next one is dislocated," he said, pointing to the swollen digits. "I can try to realign them and then splint them, but there's no guarantee they'll heal properly."

"That's fine," Nicky said, waving off his frustration. "Just do what you can."

"It's going to hurt like hell," he warned.

Nicky nodded and smirked. "Yeah, I kinda figured that part out. I'll be fine."

"Okay, let me stitch this up first. Shouldn't take long, it's not too bad, just this side over here," he said, pointing with his pinkie, "I'm worried about that deep spot. Looks like it took most of the force." She made no arguments so he started to prep the supplies he would need.

Nicky's leg began to bounce in anticipation. She was ready to be done with this. Stupid Larry and his stupid fucking pout. How she had been talked into this she had no idea. He had just been so fucking earnest in his need to help. Glancing at the clock on the wall she realized that over half her day was already gone. She was running out of time. She jumped at the prick of the needle against her skin, not realizing he was already starting.

Ignoring her reaction, Howard methodically worked. Squirmy patients weren't anything he wasn't used to. "You get bloodwork done regularly?" he asked, threading the suture string through her skin.

Nodding, Nicky grunted in response. "Clinic near where I stay. I've been going since I started."

"And how long ago was that? How old are you?" Howard asked, both curiosity and judgment in his tone. He looked up at her out of the corner of his eye. "Do your parents know what it is you do?"

 _Parents. Ha._ If he only knew. She didn't like where this conversation was going. She had almost managed to push thoughts of Marka from her mind, but this asshole had to go and fuck that up. Sighing in resignation, Nicky hesitated. "I'm 18. No parents," she finally answered.

Howard instantly started laughing to himself. "The men who want to sleep with you may believe that, but there's no way that you're 18."

"You mean you're not one of them? You don't want to sleep with me?" she asked voice dripping into something low and breathy. Leaning forward on her elbow, she smiled at him seductively and dropped her eyes to his lips. If he insisted on continuing to push her into discomfort she was going to give it right back. "I'm sure something could be arranged."

Knotting the string at the last stitch, he snipped the line free and admired his work. The stitches lay in straight little lines. He looked up at her and scowled. "I want you to do something with your life that isn't a waste. Get back in school. Get a job. Hell, marry rich and have a billion babies if that's what makes you happy."

"First you want to be my father, now my white night? No thanks, I've had both—neither were much help." Shaking her head her nose flared with her exhaled breath of anger. "Not every damsel is in distress," Nicky growled in warning.

"I'm not in the business of saving them either. You seem like a smart girl," he said. Picking up her hand once more, he gave no warning as he jerked her finger back into what felt like the right place. "I'm sure you're capable of getting yourself out of this mess."

"Fuck man," Nicky snapped. "You could have warned me." She squeezed at her forearm, hoping that it would somehow help the radiating pain. She glared at him even though she knew it wasn't his fault.

"It's nothing personal. I warn you and you tense up and mess it up. Then we have to start all over." He made quick work of binding the two fingers together and splinting them against half a tongue dispenser. "That will work for now. Leave them wrapped as much as possible. The more you screw around with them the worse they'll heal."

Nicky stared down at her hand. It had been a stupid move, and her fingers were fucking uncomfortable and awkward like this. She didn't have much choice, but damn it was going to look so sexy as she tried to hook up with clients. She rolled her eyes at her hand and shook her head. Nothing to be done about it now.

"Well," Howard said, beginning to clean up his supplies. "You're all finished."

Nicky nodded and moved her hand and fingers around testing the pain and mobility. "Thanks, man. I appreciate it."

"Don't thank me," he grumbled. "Just get out of my house."

Nicky nodded. She would probably have the same response if she were in his position. "Right. I'll just grab my things. Wanna say bye to Larry for me?" she winced, not wanting to be a complete jackass, but also not wanting to get stuck in a conversation either.

"Tell him yourself when you're done in the bathroom," he replied.

"Um?" Nicky asked confused. She didn't need to use the bathroom.

Nodding Howard refused to look at her. "It's just over there," he said, jutting his chin at an open door. "Leave this on the sink while you're in there. I'll put it away later."

"Okay," Nicky said, still not fully understanding his odd behavior. She took the first aid kit from him and headed towards the room.

"Oh," Howard said, calling after her. "Stay out of the medicine cabinet. I have prescriptions for some antibiotics and painkillers in there. I'm not in the business of passing out drugs, so stay out of my stuff."

Understanding what he was doing she felt her stomach twist into knots. People didn't look out for her. They didn't help her—she made sure of that. People who helped her always seemed to get fucked over in the end. It was a weird feeling accepting help, but she'd already come this far and her hand hurt like a bitch she could only imagine how it was going to feel in another hour.

Dropping the case on the sink, Nicky made quick work of finding the right bottles and pocketing the drugs. She didn't think she needed the antibiotics, but it wasn't like she was the doctor. Leaving the bottles behind—and any trail back to him—she caught her reflection in the mirror.

She leaned forward and inspected the fingerprints along her neck and collarbone. It was more than a little obvious what they were. Outside of strangling herself in a turtleneck they couldn't be helped. She ran a hand through her hair glaring at the hint of curls coming to life. This humidity was killing her and her attempts to look older. Her wild hair always made her look younger than even her real age. She was so ready for fall.

"Nicky? Honey," Amy's voice came through the door, as she knocked. "I made you a sandwich. Just come to the kitchen when you're done."

"Uh, thanks," Nicky called out, rolling her eyes. "Great," she mumbled to herself, thinking about the time that was slipping through her fingers. She had to go get the money from Red's without a doubt. She was running out of time and options.

Making her way to the kitchen, Nicky was surprised to find them all waiting for her. "Uh, hey," she said awkwardly, wondering why she hadn't bolted for the front door instead of listening to Amy.

"How's the hand?" Larry asked, patting the bar stool next to him. There was a plate with a sandwich, chips and a pickle waiting for her.

Nicky's brow furrowed, but she sat down all the same. She hadn't eaten anything since lunch the previous day and her stomach quickly reminded her of that fact. She still felt sick, but the smell of even the damn pickle made it rumble in desperation. "Thanks," she said, biting her lip and staring at the sandwich.

"Of course," Amy said excitedly—feeding people was something that always put her in a good mood. It was nice to be doing things for people, even if she sometimes had to force them to participate in her vision of how things should be. So, what if this Nicky was a hooker? She didn't always have to be, and now, seeing them side-by-side, she saw what an adorable couple the young woman and her son would be.

Nicky awkwardly picked up her sandwich and took a bite of it. She felt like they were all watching her and quickly wiped her lips off on the napkin. "It's great," she said after swallowing. God, she hated ham... and mustard—at least there weren't onions.

She heard a rattling behind her and a moment later, Howard put a glass of water and some ibuprofen on the counter next to her. Nicky looked up with a sincere look of gratitude and he nodded in acceptance. She quickly took the medicine and finished her lunch.

Between bites, Nicky answered as many of Amy's questions as she felt comfortable with and found that despite his gruff nature, Howard intervened nearly every time that she started to get uncomfortable. If that wasn't the case, Larry would interject with some horrible joke and change the subject. She might never eat apple pie again.

Twenty minutes later she found herself on the Bloom's doorstep with Larry. "Listen," she said, rubbing the back of her neck, "thanks for talking me into coming. I really appreciate it."

"Of course," Larry said, almost confused by her sincerity. It wasn't that big of a deal. He would have done the same for any of his friends. Maybe she didn't see him as a friend, but he knew that if he had it his way she would be. "Did I pay you enough?" he asked after an awkward moment of silence.

Nicky smirked at him and nodded. "Yeah, it was enough."

Larry looked down at his shoes and rocked back on his heels. "You didn't charge me nearly as much as you usually do, did you?"

"Eh, consider it a starter's rate. Next time I'll charge ya double to make up for it," she chuckled.

Looking up with raised eyebrows he grinned. "So, I can call you again?"

Nicky scrunched up her face and shook her head. "Not if you keep looking at me like a lovesick puppy," she explained, reaching forward and pinching his cheek.

The taxi he had gotten for her pulled up and she pointed in its direction with her thumb. "I better get going. Things to see, people to do. You know how it goes."

They bid their goodbyes and she headed off towards the waiting cab.

XOXOXO

There you have it folks! Half of day 2

Just a quick reminder:

Feedback is always welcome, especially on longer stories. It helps us out tremendously when we know what you're questions and thoughts are on the things we write. We can't always fill every request into the main plot if it conflicts with something already in the works, but we will try and work in as much of your ideas, concerns, questions etc. as we can.

As always, thanks for reading!


	6. Chapter 6: July, 23 - Tuesday

A/N: Hey all! I know it's been a while, but here's the next bit. It's a bit long, but I guess that's becoming a thing with this story. Some updates for you:

 **Jo** is looking for a fanfic person that she insists exists. Said person is studying law and roughly 26 (?). That is all the information she has. If you are, or know, said person please let her know so that she will stf- ... be able to relax in the fact that she is not crazy. She's also on vacation so let's be super happy for her and not jealous at all. Well, Alice isn't jealous because Jo is in Florida, but too much of a hoe to make the 5 hour trip to see her. She told Jo it would rain and as karma dictated rain it has.

 **Alice,** who is neither an evil witch nor a weather hoe, adopted a dog named 'Nikki'. New pup came with the name and Alice did not name her. If she had NICKY'S name would have been spelled correctly. Lather, Rinse-You're Doing It Wrong was recently read on FanFiction Nation's podcast which was kinda cool, but she has no idea how she feels about this yet other than amused that she created an awkward moment between a son and his mother. (fanfictionnation dot com)

Anyway, hope you all enjoy! Let us know what you think. : )

XOXOXO

Once the morning coffee crowd showed up, Red lost herself in her work. She was enjoying the balancing act of working both the kitchen and the shop front. It was a bit of a struggle, but it felt like something she could control. A challenge she could focus on. Her mood had risen into something that could almost be mistaken for happiness. Almost.

"Hello, Red," a voice called from behind her.

She felt all the lightness leave her. Red rolled her eyes before turning around and greeting him. "Officer Healy. How is your day going?" she asked politely.

"Please, call me Sam," he said, pulling out one of the three barstools set up for customers.

Not many people ate at the counter, but she'd set aside a small space for those who wanted to. Unfortunately, Sam Healy was one of them. "The usual?" she asked, already grabbing a bowl for him as he nodded. "Will Katya be joining you?" she asked.

Red knew the man's wife rarely came in and that it was a sensitive subject, but she was feeling petty and resentful. He'd interrupted her brief respite and she did not want to deal with him or his self-pity.

"I, uh..." He looked at his phone and was unsurprised to find a negative response to his text.

 _Healy: Are you going to make it to lunch today? We had plans._

 _Katya: Across town with Ulya. Lost track of time. Maybe next time._

"Not today, I guess," he said, wiggling his phone by means of explanation. "She's out with a friend."

"Oh," Red said, not caring one way or the other. It was the same story every time. He'd been coming in for two years now and she'd met his wife less than 10 times. It was a wonder he stayed married at all. Even she saw that it was hopeless.

In the beginning, he hadn't been so bad. He was a curious man who wanted to learn more about his wife's culture. She had indulged his curiosity, but it had been a mistake. He was stuck to her like a leech she couldn't reach. "Well, maybe next time."

Healy, grabbed her hand as she slid his bowl towards him. It could have been accidental—a brush against her skin as they passed the dish between them, except that he had held on instead of merely brushing against her. "You know that's not true. I was a fool for thinking she would appreciate my attempts."

Pulling her hand back, Red forced a smile onto her face. _A leech with teeth._ "You're a good man, perhaps you should think about finding someone more attentive to your affections." She felt her phone vibrate in her pocket but didn't bother to check it. The way the shop phone had been ringing off the hook she knew who it was.

"I have been, Red," he said, nodding in sincerity. "I've been giving it a lot of thought."

The implication of his words was clear. Red flags raised in her mind, and she felt the disgust flare up her chest. She had given him no signs of being interested in him. Whatever delusions he had built up in his mind were solely his own. "I hear there's a singles group that meets downtown Tuesday nights, maybe you could start there."

Healy ignored her attempts to dissuade him. "You've been a good friend to me over the years," he said warmly. She didn't respond right away and he could feel her hardening against his attempts. He needed to switch tactics. "Why don't you take a break and have some lunch with me? As friends. I'm sure Dmitri could handle things for a while. We haven't had a chance to catch up in some time. How are the boys?"

No, they hadn't caught up in a while. She'd made sure of that. For months, she had been shutting down his attempts at deepening their dynamic. "Dmitri isn't here," she said. Quickly adding on the excuse she'd been practicing for her boys. "He's away on some business." There. It hadn't been so hard.

Her eyes flitted to where Ganya sat and she found him watching her. She felt her lips raise into a gentle smile, appreciating how easily he had agreed to help her. _A good friend,_ her thoughts echoing Healy's words.

Healy cleared his throat, trying to draw Red's attention back to him. "Well, I wouldn't have even noticed. You seem to be quite capable of running things all on your own. I always knew you were the backbone of this place."

Nodding, politely Red chuckled. "It's my baby," she said, briefly lost in the thought of what might happen to her shop if she couldn't manage on her own. It wasn't an option. This had been her dream, and she'd fought too hard to make it happen.

"Galina," Ganya said, using her name in a gentle familiar way. He leaned forward, arms resting on the counter. "Could we have a little more sugar?" he asked, revealing the small sugar container in his hands. "It seems we're a little low. If you don't have any more, maybe you could come sit with us. Your sweetness would be a welcome addition."

"Mr. Mikhailov," Healy said, his voice flat. It was clear that it was an acknowledgment of presence and not a greeting.

Looking towards the grey-haired gentleman, Ganya looked surprised. "Why, Officer Healy, I didn't even see you there. How are you my friend?" he asked, patting his hand on the other man's back. He knew how much his presence annoyed the officer and did his best to rile him up whenever their paths crossed. He had many friends in the police force. Healy, however, was not one of them.

"I believe Red is too busy to fraternize with customers right now. In case you didn't notice she's running things by herself today," Healy said, trying to show how familiar he was with the woman. He silently cursed himself when he remembered that Red said Dmitri was working with the other man.

"Yes well, I have to try," Ganya laughed. "Who can resist a pretty lady? What do you say, Galina? Care to come sweeten our table?"

Rolling her eyes, Red took the empty container from him. "There's plenty of sugar in the back," she said, effectively shutting him down. She knew he was trying to get rid of Healy for her, but he was laying it on a bit thick. "I'll be right back," she said, excusing herself from their competitive natures.

Ganya couldn't help himself and called after her. "You wound me." He pressed a dramatic hand to his chest.

Looking over her shoulder, Red smirked at him despite her desire to not play into his games. "Somehow I'm sure you'll survive."

A moment later she returned, passing the sugar along. With a grateful nod, Ganya winked at her knowingly and returned to his table.

"You know Galina," Healy said, trying her name out on his tongue. "That is a ver-"

"Red," she corrected.

Healy looked at her in confusion. "What?"

"My name," she explained. "It's Red." Ganya might use her name, but Healy definitely was not going to be doing that.

"Right. Red," he said, tone sounding defeated. "I don't know if you know this, but that man. He's a very dangerous person."

"Is that so?" she said, sounding naive and aloof. "Well, I don't know anything about that, but he's good business for us."

"Maybe I'm not making myself clear. Letting him hang around here so often, it's going to get you into trouble one day. You're a good woman Red, with a nice family. I wouldn't want that for you," he explained as though she were some naive child.

Red stiffened and put both hands on the counter. "I know how to take care of my family, and I'd appreciate it if you didn't try to tell me how to run my business." She raised an eyebrow daring him to continue. "Are you finished?" she growled. She was surprised at her own boldness and dropped her eyes to his lunch gesturing to the bowl.

Nodding, he slid the dish towards her. "It was great, as always. You're a wonderful cook Red." He pulled out his wallet and handed her his payment.

"I'll get your change," she said stiffly.

Healy held up a hand. "You can keep it," he explained.

Shaking her head, Red resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "I'll get your change."

When she returned, he was standing, ready to leave. "Thanks," he said, dropping a few bills onto the table. He leaned forward and looked over his shoulder at Ganya and his men. Letting out a huff of angry air, he shook his head as the older man waved at him with an overly friendly smile on his face. "If you decide you want them gone you just let me know. I'll find a way to make sure he doesn't come back."

"Thank you, but it won't be an issue," Red said. "Have a good afternoon," she added before turning her back and briskly walking away.

Healy watched her go, nodding to himself. He liked her, and her fiery temper was exciting compared to his own wife's icy one. She barely talked to him let alone show passion about anything other than despising him. The intensity of Red's emotions always sent a thrill down his spine. He made his way to the door but heard Ganya's voice calling out to him.

"Have a good day Officer Healy," the mob boss said with an obnoxiously pleasant laugh.

Gritting his teeth Healy offered a stiff wave and left. Putting his hat on as he stepped through the door, he watched Ganya rise to his feet and head to the front counter to talk to Red.

 _Trouble_.

He didn't like it one bit. Admittedly it was more the competition that was upsetting him. Red was a kind woman, but she seemed so easily swayed by the man's charm. It wasn't any good for her; she just didn't see it. Maybe it wasn't his job, but he felt like it was his moral obligation to help her see things clearly.

Healy wasn't out the door two minutes before Ganya made his way back to her. "Yes?" Red asked with a raised eyebrow. The amusement was clear in her tone. "Can I help you?"

"How did your lunch date go?" he asked playfully.

Rolling her eyes, Red began to wipe down the counter where he'd eaten. "Dull," she explained. "Always the same with that one. His marriage is a sham, and he spends most of his time feeling sorry for himself."

"You don't seem like someone who offers pity freely," Ganya observed.

Red nodded. "You're right, but he doesn't seem to notice that. What about you? You two seem to have history," she said. Resting her hands on the counter she cocked her head curiously. "You make friends with all the cops?"

Smirking Ganya shook his head. "No, not all of them. You know what they say about enemies..."

"Really?" Red questioned in disbelief. "You're going to be that cliché. Come on, if we're gonna be friends don't bullshit me. Give me a good story," she prompted.

Ganya's features softened. "Friends huh?" He reached for her hands but hesitated. They were a long way from that sort of familiarity. He would take the small window but respect her wishes. Long games always paid off in the end for him. "Well, I'm afraid that my association with Healy is just as ordinary as it seems. He keeps an eye on me, and I keep an eye on him. So far we've stayed out of each other's way." He shrugged. "Maybe it will stay that way; maybe it won't. Only time will tell."

Red bit at her lip. She had to admit that Ganya's attention was making her bolder and more curious. He was dangerous, but he was just a man. She had no intentions of crossing him, and after all, it was just a little conversation. "Tell me a different story then," she prompted. "Something that isn't quite so boring." She thought about it for a moment and then smirked at the mafia boss. "Your last name. Mikhailov? That's not what you go by."

With a coy smile, he shrugged. "My mother wanted something respectable, so she used her grandfather's name instead of my father's."

"Your father's name was Vodyanoy**?"

"I never knew my father. My mother barely knew my father, but she was in love. I don't know what his last name was, but as a child, I liked to think it might be Vodyanoy."

"You wanted your father to be a frogman?" Red asked in disbelief. She'd wanted a story, but now she wondered if he was playing with her.

"I did. There is a story there, but that is for another day. Maybe over dinner some time?" he voice was soft, but he seemed to come back from whatever moment in the past he had been caught in.

"I'm married," Red hissed, in a knee-jerk reaction. First Healy and now Ganya? She couldn't wrap her head around it.

"So am I, but my marriage is a facade and yours is over." He wiggled his eyebrows playfully. "We could have a lot of fun together Galina. You have to admit that."

"I don't have to admit anything, but I do have customers," Red said, quickly moving away from him to help the young woman waiting behind him. "If you don't mind," she said when he didn't move right away.

"Take all the time you need Galina. I'm not going anywhere," he said with a wink.

It was playful and flirty, but she knew better. He was not going anywhere and neither was the baggage that came with him. She couldn't even imagine what spending time alone with him might be like. Even if she'd wanted to the damn phone rang once more.

It had been ringing regularly every ten minutes for the past two hours. She knew who it was, without even looking. He was an idiot. He knew he started calling right at the beginning of the lunch rush. Even if she had wanted to answer—which she most definitely did not—she couldn't have.

The phone rang again and she growled under her breath. It seemed like Dmitri was not going to stop until she talked to him. It wasn't fair, but nothing much in life was. He had done this. She wouldn't be bullied into talking to him until she was ready. So, she let it keep ringing. He could wait.

Thinking back on the previous night she began to feel sick with worry and fear. Her hand fell to her belly and she rubbed it slowly, unconsciously trying to soothe the anxiety away. So many things were changing and she wasn't sure if she would be able to handle them on her own. She wasn't someone who would go down without a fight though, and that seemed to draw forth a new energy of determination. Reminding herself of who she was and where she came from, she squared off her shoulders and glared at the phone.

As if sensing her gaze that fucking phone rang once more. If for no other reason than to make him stop calling she snatched it up and answered. With a heavy sigh, she answered, already knowing who was on the other end. "You have to stop calling," she said.

"Galina," he said, sounding relieved. "I'm so glad you answered. We need to talk."

Red's mouth moved to respond, but no words would form. He sounded like he always did, not like the man she'd heard talking to that girl. Closing her eyes, she tried to calm her mind, but the moment she opened them they drifted to the freezer. She couldn't. As he repeated her name, she pulled the phone away from her ear and hung up.

"Fuck," she hissed under her breath, only looking up as a little boy nearby gasped at her foul language. "Sorry," she mumbled to the boy's parents. She stepped into the kitchen, not caring about the business man ringing the bell on the counter. She needed a moment to collect herself.

XOXOXO

Walking down the sidewalk towards Red's shop, Nicky mentally began to prepare herself for what was about to happen. She didn't even want to be near the place, but she had to. She would go in, grab her bag, and leave. That would be it; she wouldn't have to go back after that.

Granted Ganya frequented the shop, but he knew where to find her. She didn't need to keep hanging around there. Mainly it had been about convenience, but it was time to look for other work. It was time to get away.

Maybe she could move. Go somewhere else and start over. With Marka on the warpath, it was something to seriously consider. She could leave this place altogether and forget about her life before.

It was a fresh start that she didn't deserve. Maybe it wasn't the smartest of choices, but she loved this area of the city. As many bad memories as there were she still loved it. It was her only connection to her dad, her best friend, an innocence that she could barely remember.

Nicky chuckled to herself. Maybe she should have become an artist. She certainly had the tortured twisted darkness. Even while caught up in her own self-destruction she was aware of her own hand in things.

She reached her destination and wished that the trek had been longer. She wasn't ready, but the sooner she went in the sooner it would be done.

XOXOXO

Red's hand gripped the phone tightly. It was time. She couldn't keep avoiding the inevitable. Quickly dialing the number, she steeled herself for what she was about to do.

The phone rang twice and a nasally voice greeted her across the line.

"Thank you for calling Quality Medical Care, this is Wanda speaking," the voice on the other line said.

Red nodded along, nervously anxious and impatient. She needed to do this before she lost her nerve. "Yes, I need to make an appointment with Dr. Jefferson."

"Last name?" the woman asked, sounding bored.

Red rolled her eyes. She'd been seeing Dr. Jefferson for years—ever since she moved to the area. Wanda had been there almost as long. "Reznikov," she said.

"Oh! Hey Red," the other woman greeted. "Didn't recognize your voice. You'd think with the accent and all... but I tell ya, get people on the phone and they all sound the same."

Red gave a polite chuckle. "Who knew?" she responded, not wanting to get sucked into a conversation.

"When's your birthday hon?" the woman asked.

Giving her the date—as if there were any other female Reznikovs there—Red answered the rest of her questions. "I need to see her as soon as possible."

"Uh-huh, no problem. Let me just check her schedule," she said more to herself than to Red. "How about tomorrow morning? Nine o'clock?"

Red's shoulders slumped. "There's nothing sooner?"

"Sorry, that's it. Let me tell you though if you don't take that one it's not going to be until Thursday that I can get you in."

"Fine. Tomorrow at 9," Red agreed. She could hear the other woman typing in the background and waited.

"Alright, and what's this visit about hmm?" Wanda asked. It was a standard question, but she always enjoyed being the first to know any details.

Red rolled her eyes and pressed a hand to her forehead. "It's personal," she said, not wanting to say more. If she didn't say the words out loud...

"Sorry Red, but I gotta put whatever it is in the notes," Wanda explained.

"Okay," the Russian said, trying to think quickly. "I think I might have a track infection," she lied. She heard the bell on the door. Turning her back to it, she tried to wrap the conversation up as quickly as possible.

"UTI huh? Those can be a bitch. It burnin' real bad? Last year I had one and every time I had to pee it felt like needles were trying to break out of me," Wanda said, rambling on about her own personal experiences.

Normally Red had no patience for bullshit, but for a moment she welcomed the respite. She could pretend in that moment that an infection was the worst of her problems. She could pretend that things weren't so much more serious than that. Antibiotics weren't going to get her out of the mess that her life had become.

XOXOXO

Stepping inside the shop, Nicky tried not to think about what she was doing. She took a few steps forward and froze. Red was behind the counter on the phone. Her back was to her, but it was enough to stop the girl in her tracks. She hadn't thought this through. Nicky cursed herself. Of _course_ , she would have to talk to Red. It wasn't like her bag would still just be laying on the floor.

Without thought, Nicky's eyes drifted to the freezer and where everything had happened the night before. She felt her throat tighten and tilted her chin upward, trying to open the passageway back up.

Her heart began to race, and she shook her head no. She couldn't do this. Her breaths began to quicken; she couldn't get enough air. Looking back to Red she felt as though the ground beneath her began moving and everything felt slow. Nicky shook her head and closed her eyes, but it only made things worse.

Black. It was all she could see. Her thoughts began to spin out of control and she heard Dmitri's voice in her mind; feel the ghost touches of his hands upon her skin.

 _She felt his fingers slide out of her and felt herself slump in response to the lessening of pain. She was still on fire, but the friction against her tender walls had eased._

 _"You can't tell me you don't like it," Dmitri growled. "No one would have sex as much as you do if they didn't need it," he continued, wiggling his fingers in front of her._

 _Nicky could see the slick moisture on his fingers. It was just lubrication she reminded herself. It was nothing she wasn't used to. She rarely enjoyed sex with clients, but that didn't stop her body from trying to avoid pain—preparation for penetration. It meant nothing no matter how he tried to twist it._

 _As he licked his fingers—tasting her—she turned her head and scrunched her eyes shut. She did not want to see that. His fingers dipped at her center once more, and then she felt them trace across her cheek, leaving a trail of sticky heat against her skin. A broken sob left her lips and once more she was crying for him to stop._

Nicky turned on her heels, stumbling against a customer coming in behind her. He'd caught her by the elbows, but she jerked out of the man's touch. Stumbling against the doorframe as she exited the shop, all she could think about was escaping. She wanted to run, but she was too dizzy to do much more than take a few steps and slump against the building.

Her mind was swimming with his words and the images haunting her. _Further_. She had to move further away. With one hand against the wall, she stumbled forward. She'd almost made it to the alley. A deep voice yelled behind her and she cringed. The words were muddled, overshadowed by the breath she could swear she felt on her neck—the hand that had slid between her legs.

"Natalya," Ganya called out. He rushed to her and helped her find her bearings.

She leaned against the wall and grabbed at her splinted fingers in an attempt to find some relief in the pain—some way to calm herself. "Hey," he said, hand on her back, rubbing circles.

"Nicky," he said gently. He was one of the few people that knew her real name.

She rested her elbows on her knees and took in gasps of breath. Nicky heard Ganya's voice, but couldn't seem to focus on him. Her mind was awash with guilt and fear, mixing together in something that made her loath herself.

She had made herself vulnerable, and with that come consequences. She didn't need sex, not the way he meant. It was a tool to her. A way to make a living yes, but also a way to be destructive. A way to punish herself for not being better.

Nicky had listened to Marka's verbal assaults for years. The woman had never let Nicky forget that she didn't meet her standards. It was Nicky's own thoughts that truly haunted her. There was truth to Marka's words—she had more potential than the life she'd found herself in. One day it was about freedom and having choices of her own. The next thing she knew everything was falling apart and she willing stepped into a world beneath her.

Sex had become easy. Getting lost in a moment of self-punishment seemed like the only way to turn her thoughts off. The more it happened the more it continued. She had let it happen over and over. Her body under the weight of so many hands. Each leaving handprints on her skin. It didn't feel like her own anymore. She allowed herself to be used, and she could never take that back.

Self-loathing. Relief. Humiliation. Abuse. There was no absolution; the circle just kept on spinning. She didn't want to keep doing that, but how did she stop now? Dmitri didn't change anything. Her situation was still hopeless. How did she escape? Where did she turn? Panic pushed its way through her mind and she began to cry. It was too much. She wasn't ready for this.

Ganya moved in front of her and kneeled down before her. "Just breath Nicky," he said quietly. He tilted his head so that he could look at her. This was not the place to make a scene. While he was sympathetic to what she was going through—what had happened to her—he wanted to get them away from prying eyes. She deserved some privacy, and he had a reputation to uphold—one that did not include fawning over prostitutes.

"Come on," he said, pulling her upright as he stood. Moving into the alley, he turned his back on the street effectively blocking her from sight. "You're okay Nicky. It's over," he promised. He wasn't expecting her to fall against his chest, but he didn't push her away. Instead, the older man wrapped his arms around her and held her against him. "You're safe now," he promised.

Nicky knew she needed to snap out of it. Her emotions were controlling her, but she was better than that. The last thing she needed was anyone thinking she was weak. She didn't want anyone involved. When people got involved they started asking questions. For her, that was something that couldn't happen. Especially not after Marka's visit.

But in that moment the mafia's leader felt safe. His arms were strong and his large frame surrounded her. She hadn't felt that kind of comfort since her dad. She clutched at his shirt, burying her face against the fabric. Only allowing herself another few moments, she wiped her tears away and pulled back. "Uh, sorry about that," she said, trying to pull herself back together.

"It's nothing," he murmured, brushing a thumb across her cheek. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"Not really," Nicky said, shaking her head. "There's nothing to say."

Ganya nodded, he understood what she was saying, but it wasn't good enough. "Well, I have some questions that I need answers to. They aren't optional either," he added, already knowing that she would try and talk her way out of them. "Let's go get some coffee." He saw Nicky's eyes widen in fear and shook his head. "Not in there. We'll go someplace else."

"You already know what happened," she grumbled, allowing him to lead her down the street by the elbow.

Ganya held a firm grasp on her as they walked. He was not her friend in this moment. That's not what this was about. "I know what I heard. That's not the same thing," he said, steering her into the first restaurant they came across.

Nicky wiggled out of his grasp as they entered. "Yeah, well, why don't you go ask your good buddy, Dmitri." She looked around and groaned. "Man, I am not dressed up enough for this place."

"You look lovely," he lied. Tattered shorts and a tank top were definitely not the most appropriate attire for the atmosphere, but he was used to getting his own way and knew that they would have no trouble from the staff. "I'm asking you because I don't trust him to tell me the truth."

"But you trust me? What, you think I'm too scared to lie to you?" Nicky asked, smiling awkwardly at the maître d'. "Two," she said, holding up her fingers.

With a hand on Nicky's lower back, Ganya steered them behind the man. "No, I don't think you're scared," he said quietly as he pulled out her chair. "I also know you're not a liar." Moving to sit across from her, he asked for a bottle of champagne and fresh strawberries.

Nicky rolled her eyes at both his words and his order. "You're wrong. You're also ridiculous. We are not here on a date!"

Ganya laughed. "I'm quite certain that everyone in here thinks you're my daughter."

"Granddaughter is more like it," she grumbled, looking through the menu. They both halted their conversation as a waiter appeared.

Ganya waited for the pop, took a sip of the champagne, and once satisfied dismissed the waiter to give them a few moments. "Secrets aren't the same thing as lies, Nicky. We keep secrets to protect ourselves. We tell lies to make up for things we've done wrong."

"What about you then?" she asked, wanting the spotlight away from herself. "Do you tell secrets or lies?" Nicky smirked at him and the amusement in his eyes. She could get away with this. Asking questions and pushing his lines was part of his attraction to her. Nicky was smart and she wasn't afraid of him in the same way his men were. She wasn't _not_ afraid of him, but it was different with her. There was a sort of freedom in their dynamic that had nothing to do with _his_ business—only hers.

Ganya shook his head and smiled at her gently. "Tell me what happened Nicky."

Nicky sighed and her brow furrowed. "Tell me what you know," she said, voice near pleading. She wasn't ready to lay it all out there. Maybe knowing what people were saying would help either correct or elaborate on the events.

Smiling gently at her, Ganya dipped his head agreement. "Well, the word is that late last night, you were seen at Dmitri's. He invited you in. You stayed for just over an hour. There was yelling—including Galina. Dmitri left, and about twenty minutes later you left, looking a little roughed up." He sighed and cocked his head. "A little roughed up was an understatement."

Nicky raised her eyes in amusement. "What you having me followed or something?"

"I do a lot of business there. I like to know what's going on," he explained. "If I had heard sooner..."

Nicky shook her head. "Not your problem. I know you're a control freak about that place and your people, but this... it wasn't something that needed interfering."

Ganya clenched his jaw. She was right, he was a control freak, and it wasn't his problem. "Tell me what happened," he said, voice dangerously low. He liked her, but he was not her friend. Not in that moment.

Looking away, Nicky tried to find the right words. "I was waiting for Timur. That piece of scum buddy of yours only paid me half of what he owed me. We were supposed to meet up so he could give me the rest. He called and couldn't make it."

"He never paid you?" Ganya asked, voice dark and edgy.

Nicky shook her head and bit at her lip. She didn't usually like getting anyone in trouble, but in that moment, she didn't care. The guy skeeved her out anyway. "He said he'd pay me today, but I dunno if I can go back there yet. Anyway, Dmitri comes out and starts talking to me. I made a dumb call and went in for a drink. I wasn't gonna sleep with him," she explained, needing him to understand that. "He offered me a hell of a lot more than he should of for a blow job." Nicky looked away and picked at the rolled up silverware in front of her. It was cloth, not even the junkie paper ones she could shred. "I needed the cash."

"You needed the cash?" Ganya asked in disbelief. "Right then? It couldn't wait until today?"

"I know I'm good," Nicky smirked, "but despite my popularity, I'm not exactly living the life of luxury over here."

He rolled his eyes. "If you weren't always dumping your money into that program the nun runs than you wouldn't be broke." Ganya said knowing that he wouldn't win that argument, despite his logic.

"Hey, you have your interests I have mine," she countered. Maybe she couldn't change the past, but that didn't mean that she couldn't try to do better.

Ganya nodded. It wasn't his business. "You should have called me. I would have helped," he said, brow furrowing in frustration.

"Riiight," she laughed nodding. "I wake you up in the middle of the night for money and you would have helped? Do I look like an idiot? Ganya your own men didn't call you about this for a reason. You think that if they're not telling you shit like that until the next day that I'm just gonna call you up and be like hey spot me a couple hundred?"

"What happened?"

Nicky pursed her lips and looked away. "He paid me. I got him off. He decided he wanted more and I wouldn't play along."

"He raped you?" Ganya growled, barely able to contain his anger.

"No," Nicky said firmly. She shook her head for emphasis. "His wife came down—put an end to things before they got that far."

"But he would have?" Ganya asked, more quietly. His anger had receded slightly.

Nicky rolled her eyes and shrugged indifferently. "Probably, but it didn't happen."

"It could have," Ganya said.

"Stop it," Nicky snapped. "Not a victim over here. Besides, I thought this was about business. I'm not talking here to pal around. You wanted details, and I gave them to you. Leave it alone."

Ganya held up his hands in submission. "Fair enough. You still need money?"

"I'm not gonna lie. I'm in a bit of a tight spot," she told him. She didn't want to ask, but she knew she didn't have any options left except ducking town or facing her mother.

Pulling out his wallet, he started thumbing through his cash. "How much does Timer owe? I'll get it back from him."

"$200."

"And Dmitri? How much did he pay you?" Ganya asked.

"No. I don't want his fucking money." Going back for her bag and getting the money out of it had been part of her plan, but after that moment in the shop, she decided she wouldn't ever accept it.

Nicky felt like accepting the money would somehow condoned what had happened. That if he paid her and she accepted it, his slate was wiped clean. She would not be bought—not like that. She just couldn't stomach the thought of accepting money for what had happened.

"How much?" Ganya asked, breaking into her thoughts.

"I'm serious. You take it or tell her to keep it or whatever, but I don't want anything to do with it," Nicky said, anger and emotion breaking through her tone. She didn't want to make a scene, but she didn't have an issue sticking up for herself either.

"Fine," he said, handing her Timur's amount, plus extra. "Nothing from Dmitri. Only Timur and myself. That cover you?" he asked.

"I can't take all this man. It's too much," she said in disbelief. She was holding two grand in her hand which was more than enough to cover what she owed Joe even without Larry's or Timur's money.

"We can make arrangements later," he said gently, as she looked at the money suspiciously. "Get yourself back on your feet and we'll deal with it then." He saw the worry in her eyes and knew she wondered what those arrangements would be. "Same stuff as always. I'm not going to get you mixed up with anything."

She bit the inside of her cheek and nodded. "Yeah. Okay." She shoved the money into her pocket. Leaning forward, she pulled the edge of his wallet down with one finger. Her eyes widened in response. "You always carry that kinda cash around with you?"

"Not always, but who's going to try and take it from me?" he chuckled. "I figure it's just as safe in there as it is anywhere else."

"Alright, well, in that case, dinners on you," she said with a cheeky grin. She looked over her shoulder and caught their waiter's eye, signaling with a nod of her head that they were ready.

XOXOXO

After school Red had put the boys straight to work. They'd gotten a delivery the day before and the shelves needed to be stocked. Once that was finished she sent them upstairs to do their homework. The rest of her afternoon had been pretty smooth, and now cooking dinner for her family she felt oddly at peace.

The phone rang, but before she could get to it she heard Vasily answering. "Hi Pop!" he said with excited exuberance. "I'm good. Where are you? Mama said you had to go on an errand for Mr. Vodyanoy. When are you coming home?"

Before he could ask any more questions—or Dmitri answer—Red took the phone away from him more roughly than she ever would have. She saw the shocked look on his face and could tell she had upset him. Snatching had never been something she'd allowed the boys to do. "It's important," she said, before walking into her bedroom.

"Who's on the phone?" she heard Yuri ask.

Vasily's voice followed. "Pop, but Momma's gotta talk to him first."

She shut the door behind her before answering. "What the fuck do you think you're doing?" she hissed, pressing a hand to her forehead. She knew Dmitri well enough to know that he wouldn't be beneath using the boys to manipulate her. That was not going to happen. She wouldn't allow it.

"I was trying to talk to my sons," he explained as though nothing was wrong. It was always his strategy when things were messy. If you pretended nothing was wrong then maybe you could convince others. It had always worn his wife down in the end. It might just take longer this time around.

Red shook her head. "Our sons," she corrected. This would not be swept under the rug.

"Our sons fine. What's so wrong with that? A father can't talk to his boys?" he asked. His tone was all innocence, a tactic meant to make her feel irrational.

Red laughed bitterly. "What's so wrong with that? Ha!" She sat down on the bed and leaned forward on her elbows. "I know you, Dmitri. I don't want them involved in this. That's not fair to them. They don't need to hear your bullshit excuses for what happened."

"Oh, so you get to fill their heads with what you think happened, but I don't get to say a word?" he snapped.

Standing back up, Red began to pace the small room. "Dmitri don't fuck with me about the boys. I don't _think_ anything. I know exactly what happened. I saw you," she said frustrated and defeated. She sighed heavily and closed her eyes.

Tilting her head towards the ceiling she bit her lip. "Besides, I'm not telling them anything. They don't need to know what happened. They think you're away on a business trip. I figured that would be the best solution for now. Gives me time to figure out what is happening."

The line was quiet for a moment which surprised her until she heard how victimized he tried to sound.

"Galina, it wasn't what it looked like. I swear."

"A lot of good that means to me. You're a liar. You always have been," she said. There was a heavy sense of grief in her voice and a lifetime of regrets seemed to settle on her shoulders. Red shook her head and clutched her free hand into a fist.

Dmitri's voice raised once more into aggressive defense. "We had an arrangement. She said-"

She smacked her hand down on the dresser as she spoke. " _She_ shouldn't have had the opportunity to say anything. This isn't on her you son of a bitch."

"I offered to give her more, but she wouldn't take it. It's her job, Galina!" he explained.

"I don't even know where to start with you. Job or not you crossed a line—with her and your family." She hadn't even realized she'd moved, but Red looked down at the drawer she'd pulled open and the pile of his clothes that she'd tossed on the floor.

"Second, you offered her more money?" she cradled the phone between her cheek and shoulder as she continued to go through their clothes. She'd already started and it was making her feel like she had control over at least one thing in that moment. "Lord only knows how much you spent.

Dmitri tutted into the phone. "It's just money. We'll make more."

"We just talked about how badly we needed to pay Ganya back and you're throwing it away just to get off?" she knelt on the floor next to their bed and drug out the suitcase beneath it. Garbage bags seemed more appropriate, but she wanted them out of sight now. "This is exactly why you're not talking to the boys tonight. All you want to do is defend yourself. You're not even asking about talking to them."

He sighed in frustration—not regret. "Of course, I want to talk to them. I just thought it was pointless to try and change your mind." His boys would be there no matter what happened between them. Right now, he just needed to focus on getting them back together.

"Pointless about our boys, but you're going to try to defend nearly raping that girl?" She wanted to throw his stuff out onto the streets and burn it all.

"Whoa whoa whoa. _Moya yagoda_ [My berry] that is not what happened," he said, rushing the words out as quickly as he could. It wasn't what happened, he told himself. "We were just playing—just having a little fun." Maybe he had been a little aggressive in how he'd pushed for more, but he wasn't going to rape her.

"Playing?! I saw her Dmitri. She was terrified. You assaulted her." Burning his clothes wasn't good enough. If she'd get away with it she'd burn him! Maybe Ganya could help with the body, or she could cook him and feed him to her customers like the movie about the tomatoes. No one would know. If she didn't joke about it she'd go insane.

Dmitri sighed and his voice became tight and angry. She'd called him on his bullshit and he was furious. "Obviously you're not going to listen to me about this. If I assaulted her why didn't she go to the cops?" he asked.

Rolling her eyes, Red finished shoving as many clothes as she could into the bag. "Lots of women don't go to the cops. That doesn't mean it didn't happen," she snapped. "You know what you did Dmitri. Don't try to justify that with me. I'm not the one you have to answer to."

"I don't know what she told you..."

"I'm getting off the phone now. You're not talking to the boys until I'm sure that you won't try and put them in the middle of this. They are not bargaining chips. I won't tell them what happened, but that is for their sake, not yours. I love them too much to break their hearts. Goodbye Dmitri. I'll call you when I'm ready to talk about this." She hung up without waiting for any sort of answer. Nothing he said mattered much anyway in that moment.

Yes, he was the father of her children, but he was in no way acting like a father should. Until that happened... Red sighed and dropped the bag to the floor, kicking it beneath the bed once more. He could get it whenever he got the rest of his things. Collecting herself, she studied her reflection in the mirror. She looked annoyed, but not anything her sons would be suspicious about.

Coming out of the bedroom Red was met by two eager boys.

Yuri saw that she was no longer on the phone and frowned. "What about me?" he asked, crossing his arms. "I wanted to talk to Pop."

Red shook her head bristling in discomfort. "He had to go," she explained, brushing past them and heading toward the kitchen. "Is your homework done?"

"Yes," Yuri grumbled, while his brother nodded. "Is he calling back?" the older boy asked as he followed her through the apartment.

Red shook her head. "No. Not tonight." She certainly hoped he wouldn't be calling again.

Moving to stand in front of her Yuri huffed in frustration, hands dropping to his hips in clenched fists. "Why not?" he questioned loudly. "It's not fair! Vasily got to talk to him."

"Do _not_ yell at me, little boy," Red growled, daring him to do it again. "You're too old to be acting this way. Your father is busy; he'll call when he can," she explained, trying to soften her voice.

"Yeah, but-"

"I said _enough_ ," Red snapped loudly. It wasn't often that she yelled at her boys; she never needed to, but she was frustrated and desperate. "Go to your room—both of you." She pushed past her son and walked into the kitchen.

Vasily trailed after her, followed by his brother. "I didn't do anything! How come I have to go?"

Red shook her head. She didn't know why other than the fact that she needed to be alone. "Because it's bedtime," she explained.

Vasily scrunched up his face in confusion. "No it's not. It's still light outside," he said, pointing to the living room window.

Rolling his eyes, Yuri put a hand on his brother's shoulder. "She just wants us to go away."

"Who is the parent here?" Red asked grabbing Yuri by the arm. "If you don't go now you're both grounded."

"You are..." Vasily grumbled on his brother's behalf. "Do we have to go to bed though?"

Red and Yuri were locked in gaze, but finally she dropped her head back and sighed. She wasn't being fair to them, but she was so angry at their father and they were not helping.

"We haven't even eaten dinner yet," Yuri pointed out.

"Dinner!" Red gasped. She hurried over to the stove and turned the oven off. Opening the oven door, she snatched up her pot holders and pulled the dish out. It was burnt.

Yuri smirked. "Guess that's a no then. There is no way I'm eating _that_." He hopped up on the counter next to her, knowing that it annoyed her.

"Don't be smart," she said, dumping the contents of the dish in the trash. "And get your butt off my counter before I make it too sore to sit. You're not too big to spank and I promise you that unlike your father I have no issues disciplining you." She tied up the bag and pulled it out of the trashcan. "Here," she instructed, handing it over to Yuri. "Take this out back. I'll find something else for dinner."

Rolling his eyes, Yuri took the bag from her and without argument took it down to the dumpster behind the shop.

"What can I do?" Vasily asked as the door shut.

Red smiled at him and ruffled his hair. "Just go find something quiet to do."

Dropping his forehead on the counter he sighed dramatically. "There's nothing to do! I don't even have homework; you already made us do that."

"You could go read. You've been slacking lately. It's important," Red pushed. She'd been exhausted herself and hadn't been staying on them about it.

Vasily shook his head. "Can I play Legos instead?"

Biting her lip, Red hesitated. "Just for tonight." She already felt guilty for snapping at them and didn't have it in her to argue. "Tomorrow we start reading before bed again. _All of us_. Now go on." She watched as she left and then looked through the kitchen to find something else to make.

Pulling out noodles and sauce, Red decided on spaghetti. Her thoughts wandered to Yuri as she finished gathering ingredients. She needed to make things right; it wasn't his fault. She rinsed off a green pepper and started to chop it up. Even if it was just a quick fix she would not be serving her boys store bought sauce. She'd always made it from scratch.

Yuri came back inside and offered his mom a weak smile. He could tell something wasn't right with her and maybe he had been acting a little childish. When she opened her arm for her he instantly moved into the space and hugged her. Her lips pressed against the crown of his head and he knew they were okay. "When is Pop coming home?" he asked, pulling back to look at her.

"I don't know yet," Red said, smiling sadly. "It just depends on how long it takes. We'll probably see him this weekend."

He nodded but said nothing else.

"Vasily went to go play Legos. Why don't you go on too? I'll call you when dinner's ready," she said, squeezing him once more before letting go. "You're a good kid Yuri. When you want to be," she added with a wink and smirked at the grin that swelled on his face. He left without another word.

Stirring everything into the sauce, she covered the pot and let it simmer for a little while. She'd cook the noodles when it was ready. No point in doing it yet, they'd just end up cold. Red sat down at the kitchen table and sighed.

She put her face in her hands and breathed out heavily, lifting her head up until her hands only covered her mouth. She felt terrible for yelling at the boys. Here she was telling Dmitri that she didn't want them to suffer, yet her own behavior was affecting them.

Her pocket buzzed and a low growl crept up her throat. If this was Dmitri again she was going to screen. 18 missed calls, 6 voicemails, and 14 texts. Ridiculous. The latest vibration had not been from him thankfully. It was Norma, one of her best friends. She winced at the thought of explaining everything that was going on. At least her friend couldn't see her; Norma could always tell when she was lying.

Opening the message, she smiled. There was a picture of Norma holding a small vase of daisies with a grin on her face and a small wave. Gina must have taken it, Red thought. She smiled gently at the picture and ran her finger across the image. They barely saw one another since Norma and her daughter had moved out of state.

 _Norma: I was thinking about you today and wanted to send a little something to make you smile._

 _Red: You most certainly did. It was a nice surprise! As always, your timing is impeccable._

 _Norma: What's wrong?_

Red hesitated, she wondered if opening up would be such a bad thing. Who would Norma tell? Yet, it was something she barely wanted to think about let alone talk about. All day there had been reminders. Her connection with Norma felt like the one thing that hadn't been tainted.

 _Red: Just a long day. Business is busy. The boys are almost out of school._

 _Norma: Is Dmitri helping?_

 _Red: Ha! You know how men can be. More trouble than they're worth._

 _Norma: How was UFO Night?_

 _Red: More cringeworthy than I can put into words. Damn fool. How are things with you? With Gina?_

It felt normal to be talking like this, and for a moment she allowed herself to indulge in a world where nothing bad had happened. She stood up, stirred the sauce, and began to boil the water for the pasta.

 _Norma: They're good. Gina has decided that this week she wants to become a DJ. Changes plans as fast as I can catch up._

 _Red: They grow up too quickly. Well, I hate to run, but dinner is ready and a houseful of hungry boys to feed!_

 _Norma: Give them all our love. Talk soon!_

 _Red: Thank you again for the picture. It brightened my day._

 _Norma: ; ) *wink*_

"Boys," Red called. "Wash your hands; dinner is ready."

XOXOXO

Like it? Hate it? Let us know! Don't forget Jo's missing friend!

**Vodyanoy - (copied from wiki) Vodyanoy is said to appear as a naked old man with a frog-like face, greenish beard, and long hair, with his body covered in algae and muck, usually covered in black fish scales. He has webbed paws instead of hands, a fish's tail, and eyes that burn like red-hot coals. He usually rides along his river on a half-sunk log, making loud splashes. Consequently, he is often dubbed "grandfather" or "forefather" by the local people. Local drownings are said to be the work of the vodyanoy (or rusalkas).

When angered, the vodyanoy breaks dams, washes down water mills, and drowns people and animals. (Consequently, fishermen, millers, and also bee-keepers make sacrifices to appease him.) He would drag down people to his underwater dwelling to serve him as slaves.

Go look at it's pic and then Ganya's and tell us there's not a resemblance!


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